


The Natural Order of Things

by Calico



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calico/pseuds/Calico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"If you do anything with him, Moony," Sirius said, "I swear, I will be so angry."</i></p><p><i>"I won't," Remus protested, his eyebrows flying up. "What do you take me for?" he added, belatedly trying to blot out the memory of Snape beneath him, holding him, making him groan.</i></p><p>*</p><p>Eternal thanks to Allecto and cupiscent</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cutting up the snitworth berries as finely as he could, Remus was dreading the moment he knew was coming: the moment when Slughorn would tell them to test the contents of their partner's cauldron. Snape's was a far less sludgy yellow than Remus', and the bubbles that broke its surface were making a soft, melodious noise. Remus' were splattering the desk every time they burst.

He added the pungent snitworth berry mush, gave his potion another desultory stir, and glanced over his shoulder; Sirius and James were arguing over the last of the bramblesnake roots, hissing good-natured abuse at each other while their bramblesnake waved feebly from the worktop in front of them. Peter was sitting with a hunched-away girl on the next row, twisting round eagerly to catch Sirius' punchlines.

Sirius glanced up and caught Remus' eye, and gave him a grin, then rolled his eyes at the back of Snape's head, and mimed tossing the last few inches of their spiky quivering bramblesnake in his direction.

Remus grinned back, but turned away before Sirius could spot that his heart wasn't in it.

He didn't have it in him. He'd had to admit - only to himself, of course, but even so - that Snape hadn't been too awful, the last few lessons. Miserable and curt, but not actively spiteful. Not in a way that made Remus want to cheer the others on as they threw spiny things at the back of his head.

Remus spared a quick breath of thanks that he, James and Sirius had been sitting this way round, five weeks ago, so that when Snape turned up late and had to join them in the back row, the empty chair hadn’t been between Sirius and the wall. Sparks might have flown. Cauldrons, also. Perhaps limbs.

"You're stirring that in the wrong direction," Snape's voice came, breaking through his thoughts.

Remus focused on his own hand, its idle movement, then glanced dubiously at Snape. "The book says—“

"I'm well aware of that," Snape said shortly, "but," and he peered at the contents of Remus' cauldron for a brief, disdainful moment, "since it looks as if you've already added three times more boxworth sap than the recipe calls for, I didn't think you were paying the book too much attention. And since I'm the one who'll have to taste it," he added, as a bulbous bubble on the surface of the potion gave a soggy greenish-yellow burst, "I am simply attempting to give you advice that might redress its condition."

That sounded… fair enough, really. Remus stirred the potion in the opposite direction; the mutinous bubbles subsided. He looked over to say thanks, but Snape had already turned back to his own part of the bench, where he was doing something lethally fast with his knife and a bundle of saffron fibres.

An odd sensation tugged at Remus' mouth as he watched the blur of Snape's hands, the stony expression on his shadowed face as he glared down at his handiwork. Five weeks ago, Remus never would have taken Snape's advice, even in Potions - but now that they'd been ingredient partners for five long lessons, forced to share a bench, he'd started to recognise that being an obsessive bookworm was useful for some things.

A bright spot of colour sailed through the air behind Snape's back, missing his robes by scant inches and splatting harmlessly onto the floor. Remus twisted around and saw James mime slapping his own forehead, while Sirius mocked him. Peter had spilled something green down his front as he doubled over with silent laughter.

James caught Remus' eye and grinned. Remus pretended it was very funny, then turned back to his potion, which was now showing the barest hint of pure yellow under the sludgy surface. Snape, who didn't seem to have noticed anything going on behind him, was dropping a puff of black powder into his potion; it made its surface blaze even brighter yellow and brought, momentarily, a gleam of something new into Snape's eyes.

"All right, just five minutes until you're free - I'll give you another thirty seconds," Slughorn's voice rang out. "Then it's time to taste your partner's concoction. Remember to use a wooden or glass spoon, not metal."

Remus eyed his own potion warily. It seemed to be behaving. Behind him, Sirius and James had started hissing frantically to each other, a mixture of panic and hushed hysterical laughter.

Beside him, Snape was also moving at double-speed. Remus opted to leave his own potion be, now, and watch Snape's industry instead. Those extraordinarily quick fingers, that ever-present scowl.

"Right!" Slughorn called, and the class drew to a humming halt. "Now remember, there are glasses of water at the front here, each containing a drop of sobering draught, just waiting for anyone whose partner's Euphoria is a little, shall we say, wild. All right? And you can leave after this, since it's Friday afternoon and you've all been most attentive. Just don't forget who looks after you come Christmas, heh-heh, hmm? Right! Bottoms up!"

  


***

  
"Worst luck, Moony,” James had said, five weeks ago, when he'd heard Remus was going to be paired with Snape until Christmas.

Remus had winced and nodded.

“ _Although_ ,” James had pointed out, after a second, “at least he won't poison you, which is more than I can say for Padfoot's efforts," and Sirius had charged up behind him and pushed his hand between James’ shoulder blades, forcing him double in his chair, forehead touching his knees.

"Mmmuf-muf-MUF-muf," James had protested, as Sirius sat on his head.

"Maybe you could brew up Snivellus a special nightcap," Sirius had said, smirking. "I'm sure we've got some Timpson's Toothrotter around here somewhere... Wouldn't be too difficult to add it to your cauldron without him noticing... How do you think he'd look with his teeth blacked out? More repulsive, or is that not possible?"

"It wouldn't matter - it'd wear off before anyone else would notice," Remus had chuckled, because it wasn't as if Snape ever smiled anyway, and then the conversation was broken as Sirius pitched forwards and a very red-faced James shot up, gasping indignantly for air.

Lily Evans had chosen that moment to come in through the portrait hole, and Remus and Sirius had collapsed laughing; James' hands hadn't been able to fly to his hair fast enough to undo the damage Sirius had wrought.

Lily had disappeared swiftly into her dormitory, giving them an amused look, and James had growled at Sirius for shaming him _again_.

"Oh, you'll wear her down," Sirius had said, waving casually at one of the girls who'd followed Lily; she had smiled and let her hair fall across her face, and the third girl had glanced hopefully at Remus.

Remus had looked at James. James had been fishing a pack of cards out of his robe pocket, then a rubber band, two sickles, the Map, and eventually a small red origami bird. He tapped the bird with his wand, and it gave a surprised cheep and then fluttered furiously off towards the girls' dormitory. Watching the bird's bright flight path, Remus couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever feel the desire to pursue someone as acutely as James did.

"Seventeenth time lucky," James had said, shrugging, when Sirius raised an eyebrow at him.

  


***

  
“Shall I...?" Remus asked Snape, brandishing his spoon and looking at the cauldrons in turn.

The one looked a lot more like the book's picture of Euphoria than the other.

Snape's lip curled. "I rather think I should go first," he said. "I'll almost certainly need a glass of water after this, and if you go first you may prove less than efficient in fetching it."

Remus drew himself up, hiding his smile behind an affronted sniff. He found Snape's disdain a bit exhilarating, these days. Something to clash against and make sparks. "Mine might not be _that_ bad," he said.

Snape raised an eyebrow at it. "That is... possible, yes."

"Fine, I'll try mine,” Remus suggested, leaning in and lowering his voice to a reckless intimation. "If you're scared..."

Snape's eyes flashed and he leaned minutely backwards. "There is no need," he said, and applied himself to dipping a wooden teaspoon below the yellowish surface and then twisting it out again, neatly dispelling the scum that had already started to form.

Remus watched him raise the spoon to his mouth, part his lips, hesitate, then slip the spoon between them. His lips tightened in a grimace, and Remus realised he may be watching Snape's mouth too closely, and looked at his eyes instead.

Snape looked back at him with a dour expression for two or three seconds - and then his pupils started enlarging to twice their normal size. His lashes fluttered down, and his lips parted, and he swayed and grabbed the work bench with one hand.

For a moment, Remus thought Snape was going to lose his balance completely and fall between Remus and the cauldrons. Remus would have to catch him and steady him. He started tingling with antici— nerves, with _concern_. Within another breath, however, Snape had straightened once more. He laid the spoon down again with a forcedly gentle click, and opened his normal-again eyes.

Remus winced at him. "Are you… How is it?"

"It's not awful," Snape said, after a moment. He licked his lips, looked at the ceiling, then back at Remus. "Actually, I don't feel anything now." Somebody with no knowledge of Snape whatsoever might have detected a note of apology in his voice. "Your turn," Snape added briskly.

Oddly crestfallen but not at all surprised, Remus tried to be brisk as well. At least, he reasoned, this was likely to be good. He took a large spoonful of Snape's gleaming, sunshine-yellow potion, held it before his mouth for a moment, then took a quick breath and tipped it into his mouth.

It tasted like peppermint creams.

He felt Snape watching him as he swallowed. The world seemed to brighten. Remus blinked and put his own hand out to steady himself as a low burn started shimmering in his belly, sensation unfurling through him, splendid like coiled silk ribbons thrown up against a sunset. He felt himself start to grin.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

A part of Remus started reeling giddily at being the focus of all that attention, that concentration, at last - and then he realised that Snape was confused, because Snape didn't yet know if his potion was any good!

Remus swallowed again and moved closer, determined to tell him that it was, oh: wonderful like drinking hot chocolate in the snow, like biting into a toasted marshmallow or being gathered into a deliciously-scented hug.

“Oh,” he murmured, catching hold of Snape's arm and trying to draw him closer, “listen, this… I can't describe..."

Snape's eyes went wide, and he took a step backwards. Remus grinned feverishly at him, and then felt a sudden wave of sadness: Snape didn't know what this felt like! Poor, poor Snape, confined to a sluggish slurp of Remus' mediocre efforts, when right here in his own cauldron was glimmering the finest potion in the room, the school - nay, in _Britain_.

He beckoned covertly with the hand not clutching at Snape's sleeve. "I have an idea," he whispered, dropping his voice right down, then laughing when Snape gave him a look that said more plainly than words: _You are an imbecile and I want to leave now_.

"My idea is," Remus purred, leaning in even closer, "you," and he stabbed Snape's chest softly with his forefinger, " _you_ should try it too, because you _deserve_ it, you... You just do," he finished, and trailed off, his mood soaring on a plump cloud of contentment.

"Would you like a glass of water?" Snape asked stiffly.

That almost punctured Remus' cloud. "No," he said. Then a heartbeat later, outrage mellowing immediately to heady agreement, he said, "Oh, wait, yes, go ahead, go and get me one." He had an idea.

Snape watched him for another few moments, during which Remus beamed at him.

Then Snape said, "Could you let go of my arm?" and Remus started to laugh again, because of all things, the one he'd forgotten, really truly forgotten, was - that he was gripping Snape's arm!

He let go, and felt the loss at once, and moved his hand towards Snape again, only to see him duck out of reach and stalk down to the front counter. Remus hugged himself, his skin crawling with pleasure. It felt so wonderful just to watch the way Snape _walked_ , that effective almost-silent tread. And the deftness with which he side-stepped away from the haphazardly out-flung arm of the boy at the desk in front of Remus! Amazing. It was as if Snape's body was used to dodging, and knew instinctively when to duck.

Remus shook his head, beaming, his head full of happy peppermint fog. He noticed that his hands were now, with consummate skill, uncorking a small glass bottle and ladling some of the golden liquid into it. Some errant droplets rolled down the edge of the bottle, and he licked them off his fingers before squeezing the cork back in. His tongue tingled and his grin widened. And now - out into the winter evening sunshine!

Remus tried to survey the classroom in a casual manner. Snape was queuing at the front desk, where Slughorn was refilling rows of glasses of sobering water with an air of deep gloom. The rest of the room was getting chaotic. Glancing over his shoulder, Remus saw that James and Sirius were grinning at their own hands in lazy pleasure, each in a world of his own. Peter's partner had started hysterically crying.

Remus strode down to the front of the class and tapped Snape on the shoulder.

"Come on," he said, with his best smile. It would be criminal to pass up this opportunity to get Snape alone, while the others were oblivious - the possibilities were endless, and thrilling! He wanted to talk to him, find out what lurked behind the scowl, at the very least to tell him some jokes. He was sure to like the one about the hag and the troll and the leprechaun who walked into a coven...

Snape just blinked at him.

"I've got something to show you," Remus said, and when Snape still didn't relax Remus boldly and manfully took charge of the situation: he wrapped his fingers around Snape's upper arm once more. The touch excited him as much as it seemed to disturb Snape.

"Come _on_ ," Remus said, and started walking backwards towards the classroom door.

Snape hung back against the grip Remus had on his arm, muttering, "This isn't normal.”

Then he looked around the room and seemed to deflate at the sight of so many people in so much good cheer. He looked back at Remus balefully, and Remus grinned, and tugged; and Snape unbent, and followed him.

  


***

  
"The cauldrons," Snape started, as soon as they got out into the open air.

Remus waved an airy hand. The world was too wonderful to be cooped up cleaning out cauldrons!

"There are house-elves to deal with that sort of thing," he said, breathing in huge draughts of crisp wintry air and drinking in the distant sight of the lake, a bright streak of metallic crimson. "Look at that _sunset_." He slipped his arm through Snape's, then looked askance when Snape dropped his own arm, releasing Remus' once more. "What?"

"What exactly was it,” Snape said, his voice one of infinite patience, belied by the way he was now folding his arms, lips tight and thin, "that you wanted to show me?"

Untold joy rushed into Remus' body as he remembered. He whipped out the small bottle of yellow potion and brandished it triumphantly. "For you."

Snape had a resigned set to his mouth. He glanced at the sunset, then back at Remus. "I don't think so."

Remus laughed at the glorious absurdity of Snape even considering rejecting his marvellous offer.

Snape gave him an aggrieved look. "I don't want to. Forgive me," he snapped, when Remus opened his mouth to protest, "but you don't make it any more appealing. You, acting like this," he added, his voice trailing down to a mutter. "It's very disturbing."

Remus laughed at the misunderstanding.

Snape glared at him.

"Oh, Snape," Remus said, seeing everything so very clearly. "You're too smart not to have known I would have tried to sneak some out, and you would never have followed me here unless you were going to take it. So, please," he murmured. "Why waste this sunset by delaying?"

Snape was still glaring, but a light had altered in his eyes.

"Suit yourself," Remus shrugged, pretending with resounding glee that he didn't care.

Snape's eyes narrowed even more, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Not here," he said quietly, and then, much louder, "Ow!" when Remus beamed and grabbed his arm again and pulled him into a run.

He dragged Snape down towards the lake, pelting over the frosty grass, exhilarated beyond belief by the air rushing past and the reluctant pounding of Snape's feet next to him.

He threw himself down at the foot of the big tree and put all his weight on Snape's arm; Snape crumpled unsteadily down next to him, swearing and panting. Pure pleasure blazed in every part of Remus' senses. He stared at the glowing horizon and passed Snape the little bottle, confident of his inevitable acquiescence.

"Fine," Snape muttered.

Remus grinned and slanted a glance at him, and realised Snape was giving him an odd, earnest look. Snape glanced away quickly again and stared at the horizon for a long moment. Then, his face burnished in the light, he sipped.

Remus watched, trying to commit every second to memory. To his delight, Snape’s eyes fell slowly closed as he corked the bottle again with one deft hand. And—

"Oh," Remus sighed, after the first few seconds had drifted past. The expression creeping over Snape's face was like nothing he'd ever seen.

Snape's lips parted, his eyes staying closed. "Oh," he echoed.

Snape's head rested back against the tree, and tension uncoiled from his face, falling from his shoulders, releasing his hands.

Remus smiled fiercely at him, adoring the faint twitch that played at the edges of Snape's lips, waiting for Snape to look at him.

Snape looked like he'd gone to sleep.

Remus considered how stupidly sweet that would be, then decided that no, he wanted Snape to be awake. He wanted to find out what was going on in there. That was why they'd sneaked out here. He poked him.

In a flash, Snape caught his finger in his fist, held it against his thigh. "What?" he murmured, eyes still closed.

"You have to look at the sunset," Remus said, matching his tone. "It will go."

"So will this," Snape said, in the laziest voice Remus had ever heard from him. Languid, in fact. Thrilling. He became very aware that Snape's fist was still wrapped around his index finger, almost lewdly.

"Say something else," Remus said, forgetting about the sunset, his voice low with awe at this new wonder. Snape's voice could sound _intensely sexual_. He doubted that anyone else knew.

" _Induces euphoria in the drinker. Take a full dose for ten minutes of acute sensation, followed by an enduring sense of heightened wellbeing. Occasional side effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking_." Snape's voice, murmuring and yet enunciating every syllable, was hypnotic. It was as if the shapes of the words were clinging to his mouth; Remus wanted to lick them off. "Although the peppermint I added ought to preclude such, mmm, adverse effects."

Remus growled under his breath, and at last, Snape opened his eyes. They were almost black with pupil, intensely striking.

"Oh," Remus said, hearing his voice hushed and urgent, like a stranger.

Snape regarded him, unblinking. There was a long, long pause. Then, almost perplexed: "Apparently."

"Yes," Remus said, his brain full of glowing light. He tried to put the feelings into words. "This is... amazing," he said.

Even with his pupils huge and his mouth soft, Snape could pull off a chillingly convincing glare.

"It is," Remus said. The glare didn't waver. "I could do this all night," he tried.

"They call that sort of person an addict," Snape said. He looked away, and Remus gritted his teeth, all full of joy and the torturous craving to share.

"No, truly,” he said, and laughed at his own fervent voice. “I like being with you! Is that so hard to believe?”

He saw Snape's lower lip slide between his teeth, and almost felt the bite on his own mouth. He imagined biting Snape's lower lip himself, and a streak of heat juddered through him.

"Look at me," he said.

"I thought you wanted me to look at the blasted sunset."

Remus began to suspect that Snape hadn't taken a big enough mouthful of the potion. "Please," he said, starting to consider the possibility that if Snape wouldn't interact with him, the frustration might make him pass out. He wanted his attention, wanted as much as he could get. He’d wrap around him if Snape would let him. "Severus—"

Snape winced and glared at him.

Remus corrected himself. "Snape," he said, and then rushed on, before the glare could move off him again, "I want to talk to you," and really, he wanted to kiss him, make those eyes fly open in surprise and then half-close in enjoyment.

The corner of Snape's mouth lifted sardonically.

Remus felt bubbles of amusement start to dance through his chest. "I do," he insisted. "Since we started working together. You're _fascinating_. Fantastic."

"You're fantastically high," Snape retorted.

Remus shook his head - and then laughed, because yes, he was, but it didn't matter. He'd wanted Snape since he saw up-close those hands on a knife, he decided. Possibly even earlier!

"Let's go somewhere," Remus said, eagerness running through him in a joyous ripple.

Snape's grip on his finger briefly tightened, quivered, then released altogether. "We are somewhere."

"Fine, we'll stay here." Remus shifted closer on the frosty ground. He wanted to climb all over him, rub up against him like a madly devoted cat. The euphoria was ebbing, but in its place a sense of wellbeing was surging into him, a seductive calmness undercut with a fierce desire to be touching Snape's skin.

His fingers brushed Snape's arm, and he realised Snape was trembling. He remembered the shiver in Snape's fist, as he'd released Remus' finger, and decided that his proximity was the cause. That or frostbite, he thought sagely; either way, Snape needed touching, and fast.

He edged his hand sideways and found the warm curve where Snape's thigh met the frozen ground.

He slipped his hand up over it, into Snape's lap - and then blinked when Snape rounded on him, eyes glinting, teeth bared.

"What are you doing?" he growled, shoving at Remus' hand.

Remus leaned towards him, exhilarated beyond belief. "I want to touch you," he confided. "You're so warm."

“Y-you do _not_ want to touch me," Snape spluttered, making all the movements of scrambling and somehow not moving even an iota further away.

Remus smiled with clarity. "I do, I want to—"

"You do _not_ —"

"I want you—"

"It's the _potion_ ," Snape snapped, and Remus caught Snape's collar in his fist and quirked an eyebrow down at his outraged face.

"That wore off twenty seconds ago," he said, and kissed him.

Snape jerked against him, his hands finding Remus' shoulders and pushing, pushing hard at him, once, twice—and then not so hard—and then his palms slid around and up the back of Remus' neck, and he slowly, shudderingly, exhaled.

The heat of his breath and lips against Remus' mouth felt almost too good. Tingling all over - but keeping the presence of mind to make sure he had a good hold on Snape's shoulders - Remus kissed him harder and then drew slowly back.

"It _is_ the potion," Snape said immediately, every inch of him a picture of shivering restraint. There was feverish light in his eyes, and his gaze flickered between Remus' eyes and mouth. "Well-known side effect. Especially in adolescents. I don't know what Slughorn thought he was doing—"

"He didn't think any of us could do it," Remus said, and went to kiss him again.

This time Snape's hand flew up between them. “Even so,” he said, “just because I am more highly skilled than he anticipated, does not make it a good idea for you and I to ride this out together.”

Remus thought that dry logic had never sounded so sexy. “But I want to ride it out with you,” he said, and traced the obstacle of Snape’s hand with his fingertip. Snape’s breath caught, and his fingers curled slightly at Remus’ touch. “I find you very attractive. Now _and_ before,” he said, intoxicated honesty coming easy and blunt.

“That is - convenient,” Snape said, his voice hoarse. His gaze was tracking the movement of Remus’ fingertip as it slid down across the bulk of his palm and then swept up each finger, right to the tip.

“It is, isn’t it?” Remus said, and leaned forwards to lick the tip of Snape’s thumb. Snape’s breath caught again. Encouraged, Remus let his tongue explore more firmly, as if he wanted to commit the minute detail of his fingerprint to memory. Palm against Snape’s palm, his fingers spread and closed between Snape’s fingers, anchoring his hand between them.

Snape’s eyes were half closed as he watched. “This is a bad idea,” he said, after a moment.

Remus gave Snape’s thumb a soft suck, then let it slide from his lips. “Why? I find you attractive, you find me—“

“Compelling,” Snape interjected, his focus on Remus’ mouth, his wet lips.

“Compelling,” Remus agreed, feeling a warm flush of pleasure at the word. Compelling! An actual thing that Snape felt about him, voiced out loud! “And it is so very convenient…” He quirked his eyebrow again, because that had seemed to work last time.

Snape's glare resurfaced - but, "You don't think you'll despise yourself later?" was all he said, and the tinge of wistfulness to it made Remus' heart thud.

Remus disentangled his own hand, pushing Snape's hand aside in the same movement, and slid his arms around Snape's neck. "Will you?"

He didn't give him time to answer; it was impossible to hold back now that Snape had stopped resisting. How could anyone resist this, the ready availability of his lips, parting under pressure, letting him introduce the sweet hot swipe of his tongue. Impossible to think of regrets when the firmness of Snape's mouth was growing pliant and eager against Remus’ lips, his fingers' clutch on the back of Remus' head as tentative as his own tongue's reply.

Remus reached back into Snape's lap and squeezed at Snape's thigh, and licked into Snape's mouth, and tried to climb on top of him.

Snape made a noise in his throat and stopped being tentative. His knees came up and his fingertips dug in, and his kisses turned frantic. With a shock, Remus realised that the side of his hand was resting against a warm firm bulge. He squeezed it and Snape hissed softly, then pulled Remus down on top of him; and then hissed again and rolled them sideways on the frozen grass and muttered, "Bloody outdoors."

Remus started laughing at the absurdity of it, of Snape sprawled beneath him with his hair untidy and his mouth shiny red. It was unreal, to find himself here with Snape, dusk plummeting around them, when they should be still inside cleaning up.

Then he focused more precisely on the shiny redness and felt his own cock getting heavy and hot. He leaned down and reached for Snape's collar, trying to guide him in for a kiss again, and something jabbed up at him from the ground as he shifted his weight.

He stiffened and winced, groping at the frozen grass with both hands, then relaxed and held up the little bottle. "Bloody potions," he said, smirking down at him, then raised his eyebrow as Snape's expression changed.

Snape's eyes were already dark like the lake at night; now they gleamed like the night was full of stars. "We have to dispose of that," he said, sounding for all the world as if he were in a school corridor, and not flat on his back at the foot of a tree. "It's against regulations, sneaking active substances out of class."

"I don't care about regu— ah," Remus said, catching the meaningful look Snape shot him. Remus sank down onto his hands and knees again, over him, and crawled forwards to hold the little bottle suggestively above Snape's mouth.

Snape stared up at him, and then parted his lips.

The sight did something to Remus' chest. He uncorked the bottle with his thumb and forefinger and held the cork shy, and smeared a few buttercup-coloured droplets onto Snape's lower lip. Snape's hands slid up Remus' hips and then closed around his waist, as he licked his lips and parted them again. Remus tilted the bottle at a shallower angle, and Snape's eyes flashed. His hold on Remus' waist tightened.

"You're - teasing." His tongue swept briefly over his lips again. Remus licked his own lips, watching.

"You want more?"

"Yes," Snape said, and Remus grinned, resting the bottle against Snape's lower lip. Snape's tongue flickered against it, and Remus swallowed, and tipped the bottle, allowing a thin trickle of potion to flow until there was only a quarter left.

"Mine," he said, and licked the traces off Snape's lips, and then raised the bottle and poured the last mouthful down his own throat.

Snape tugged him down on top of him as soon as the bottle was empty, his hands flattening on Remus' waist and stroking up his back.

"That's good," Snape murmured, rubbing his face against Remus' cheek, rolling his hips up and thrusting when Remus pressed down. “So… _Oh_ …“

A moment later Remus felt the golden wave of euphoria rise inside him, and it was all he could do not to howl with pleasure at the sky.

Snape's hands slipped under Remus' robes and pressed up his bare back, and Remus gritted his teeth and pressed his mouth against Snape's neck. Complicated movement was beyond him. He wanted contact, and to be stroked, and Snape's restless shifting beneath him was fulfilling both those needs quite nicely. He growled under his breath and started nibbling at Snape's ear.

"Oh," Snape rumbled, and rolled them sideways. Something spiky poked into Remus' hip—Remus didn't care. Nothing was worth caring about while Snape's thigh was pushed between his legs, while Snape was surging against him, tasting of peppermint.

Remus rubbed against him, grabbing a handful of his hair and twisting, scrambling half on top of him again.

"Ow, ow," Snape muttered.

Remus immediately let go of his hair, pulling back to look at him, his pulse thumping in his throat and temples - and much lower down. "Ow?" he said. Please, not ow. Snape's eyes were bright black again, and he didn't _think_ the potion could be wearing off this soon—

"I want to go somewhere.... else," Snape said, fishing a handful of twigs out from the small of his back, and then he looked at Remus with naked hope in his eyes. "Somewhere inside?"

Oh thank you, thank you. "Of course," Remus said, scrambling back and pulling him to his feet, and Snape pushed him against the tree and kissed him, his hands finding Remus' and gripping them tight.

Remus felt as if he were enclosed in a warm blanket of light. He spread his fingers for Snape's to close between, and pushed against him, and tipped his head back as Snape started kissing his throat. Skin, he thought - skin was good, and Snape's mouth against _his_ skin was really very good indeed.

"We should go," Snape said, against his ear.

Remus nodded and then was engulfed with amusement: where on earth could _they_ go?

"What?" Snape asked, leaning back to look at him, eyes bright with suspicion.

"No, no," Remus said quickly, lest Snape get the wrong idea, "we should go, I agree. But," he said, starting to laugh, "we can't exactly go to _Gryffindor_..."

Snape laughed as well, an unexpectedly rich sound. "And we can't go to Slytherin."

And James and Sirius will be in the Room of Requirement by now, Remus thought. In the haze of happiness, he was simply tickled by the idea of Sirius' face, were Sirius to find out what was going on down here. An idea struck him. "Second floor, trophy room," he said. "Filch gave me detention there once - it's quiet and believe me, _nobody_ goes there."

Snape gave him a smouldering smile. "Excellent," he said.

  


***

  
The door to the trophy room was heavy and squeaky, and the eyebrows on the painting beside the window shot up as Remus dragged Snape inside. The room was paved in stone and lined with bookshelves and glass cabinets, with a large wooden table in the middle bearing pots of polish and piles of threadbare rags. It smelled like old knuts - hardly an erotic odour.

“Not the most convenient place for what I had in mind,” Snape said dryly.

Remus, kissing his way up the side of Snape’s neck, drew back to peer at his face as a shard of worry threatened to pierce the euphoric bubble.

Snape saw his wide eyes and smiled again. “But I can make it work.”

He pushed Remus against the table and kissed his mouth, and then muttered something, pulling his wand from his pocket. With a whoosh, the table collapsed into a soft, sinking mass, the rags flying outwards, pots of polish rolling noisily across the stone floor.

Falling back into it, Remus laughed in surprise, which flattened out into soft panting as Snape re-pocketed his wand and crawled on top of him.

“Hello,” Remus breathed, looking up at him, and Snape blinked, and half-smiled, and then was kissing him in earnest.

There was no denying that it was surreal, to have an erstwhile foe - Sirius’ favourite example of the wretched wrongness of Slytherin - pinning him down and sticking his tongue in his mouth. But that didn’t seem to matter, right now. Nothing mattered except fanning this alchemical fire, letting the flames devour him. It was—convenient. He and Snape were in the right place at the right time for each other; it was no more complicated than that.

The mattress-table shifted beneath them as Remus arched his back and made soft, urgent noises against Snape's mouth. His hands found their way under Snape's robes, countless layers of warm disarray, working them open and delving underneath. He spread his fingers over the bare skin of Snape’s shoulders and stroked greedily, pushing the heavy robes aside, reeling with the sensation of all that smooth heat beneath his palms.

“Yes,” Snape said, a fervent undertone, and pressed down on top of him.

Gleeful dizziness rose in Remus' head, and he sank his nails against Snape’s shoulders and hung on. Snape hissed against his mouth and started moving against him with a dirty sort of purpose, rocking on top of him.

Fuck, Remus thought, wriggling out of his shirt as fast as he could, only managing to get it off one arm before Snape's mouth was on his chest, trailing, panting.

Remus stared at him, the downcast smudges of his eyes, the dark tangled fall of his hair. His lips were ruddy, leaving wet traces, plucking at Remus' chest. Snape slid his mouth over Remus' left nipple, and Remus' free hand flew to the back of Snape's head.

Fuck, stay there. Stay there, looking like that, _please_.

Snape shook his head irritably and moved on, and Remus' skin seized with frustration. He made a whining noise in the back of his throat, and then started to hunch up against him: it was unbearable, the endless sparks skittering out from beneath Snape's mouth, never fully burning off. Snape's hands spread on Remus' chest, stilling its unsteady jerks, and then Remus clenched his stomach muscles hard as Snape turned his face slowly back up to the nipple and gave it a soft, thoughtful lick.

"Ah," Remus grunted, wrenching his wrist free of his wretched sleeve and sinking both hands into Snape's hair, holding tight as he wriggled down beneath Snape's body, bringing their faces in-line, their foreheads, their mouths.

Their cocks, he thought belatedly, as Snape smirked and swung his hips deliberately from side to side.

"Fuck," Remus said, throwing his head back, launching his hips upwards in a blind bid for attention and then cursing from the guttural base of his throat when Snape met his movement with a shove and a smile.

"Have you ever?"

"What?" It took Remus' shattered brain a moment. "No," he said, painfully intrigued. One startling thought presented itself crisply against the hazy backdrop of euphoria. "Have _you_?"

Snape just lowered his head and kissed him again, and Remus pulled him down hard, bare chest sliding against bare chest, bringing deeply satisfying pressure to the most urgent parts of his body, and filling the rest of him with whispers of sensation that felt so good they almost hurt.

Snape shoved a hand beneath Remus' back and gripped him hard, grinding down, panting against Remus' ear. Remus swore against the side of Snape's head, spreading his thighs and anchoring Snape between them with a few helpless shifting thrusts and a tuck of his ankle behind the crook of Snape’s knee.

"Would you want to?" Remus heard, breathed heavily against his ear, and again, it took him a minute before the idea crystallised. When it did, it was slowly and as if divided into component images, like the separate ingredients of a potion that needed to mix before they'd make any sense.

 _Want to_ , he thought dreamily. Snape on top of him, that made sense, he could see it; and thrusting together, that, too; but there was a syrupy indistinctness between this, where they were now, and what had been happening in the crumpled photograph Alfred Wexlington had shown him, of one man with his hands bound bent over a bench whilst a man wearing a lot of metal and leather pushed in his naked, pink, slickly gleaming, oversized—

"I..." Remus managed, trying to convey a combination of interest and trepidation in his voice - but the syrup haze wouldn't seem to clear when he tried to speak, and he ended up just sighing, dizzy, dazed.

The fierce heat seemed to ebb from his body, and he distantly remembered Snape's words from earlier: _Take a full dose for ten minutes of acute sensation, followed by an enduring sense of heightened wellbeing._

Had it been ten minutes yet?

Apparently, Remus thought, as Snape breathed "Mm," and wriggled lazily on top of him, the urgency seeming to have left his body as well.

Remus mumbled agreement as Snape's mouth slipped down to his throat, the fire in his belly subsiding to a golden glow. As Snape buried his nose in Remus' hair and breathed deeply, Remus' limbs grew heavy and content, and he just wanted to _hold_ Snape, curl around him and cling. He shifted and wrapped up tight against him, Snape's arm under his head, pressing their foreheads together.

Snape murmured without opening his eyes, and sought Remus' mouth, and Remus kissed him until the golden glow spread all over them, a golden blanket around them, all other sensation dissipating in a slow honeyed fade.

  


***

  
A gentle headache was thickening Remus' thoughts when he surfaced, and he just lay there for a few seconds before the unmistakable sound of breathing startled him awake. He opened his eyes and focused on Snape's face, close, calm. Remus stared at him, memories slowly unfurling.

Gosh.

Asleep, Snape didn't look as relaxed as he had done last night, but there was still something magnetic about his stillness, his smooth forehead and the soft set of his mouth. The dark and the light of him. And his bare shoulders were _right there_.

Remus wanted to—

This was crazy, Remus thought. What he wanted to do was crazy. Kiss him? Preposterous. He had taken leave of his senses; he was still in the grips of the potion. _Something_ must be wrong with him, because yesterday kissing Snape couldn't have been further from his mind, whereas now—he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do.

But if he _was_ still in the grips of the potion, well. In that case, Remus reasoned, the urge would fade soon. There would be no harm in exploiting it whilst it lasted. They were both young and horny, and inexplicably able to do each other a favour. Why fight it? And any port will do in a storm, after all. Remus had been single for ages.

He certainly couldn’t ignore it; he knew what being kissed back felt like, now. What it all felt like, in the hands of this particular boy. It seemed odd that a figure as previously uninspiring as Snape could now be this magnetic, but there it was. Knowledge was a beautiful thing.

Holding his breath, Remus closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, and nuzzled him. Let Snape be the one to declare this was a mistake; Remus just wanted to have fun.

He felt Snape come awake against his mouth, felt him freeze.

Then felt him kiss back.

Fuck, that was _wonderful_.

Remus made a low helpless noise and, already reaching for Snape's shoulder to drag him closer, opened his eyes halfway.

Snape's eyes were open already, sharp and dark, sharpening further as Snape saw him peering; bracing, maybe. Then Snape looked to the side, pulling fractionally away.

Remus closed his hand on Snape's shoulder, and tugged. _No_ , he thought, surprising himself with his own firmness as he leaned in to catch Snape's mouth. _No, this feels too good to ignore._

He set about kissing him, soft and almost lazy, and then harder as he grew confident that Snape knew what he was doing, knew it was not just the potion. It took several long seconds before Snape finally relaxed against him, but that wasn't a problem. It was to be expected, in fact - Snape was the last boy on earth Remus had expected to end up with, and he couldn't imagine the feeling wasn't mutual.

But so what! Stranger things had happened, and anyway, it was just - he tried out the word - _sex_ , just meaningless fooling around with someone who happened to also feel like fooling around with him.

The fact that they weren't friends made it more exciting, he thought. And so what if Snape wasn't immediately all over him, without chemical assistance? Just lying on their sides together, tasting each other’s lips, Remus felt like he had all the time in the world.

Nevertheless, he found himself flinching happily when at last Snape's palm skimmed down his ticklish spine. His skin seemed to light up beneath that soft, swift touch. He grinned against Snape's mouth, pressing closer, then with a burr of heat remembered their half-had conversation, that potion-induced honesty.

“Mm,” he said, wondering if Snape was remembering it also.

"Mm," Snape replied, his hand slowing and firming, reinvestigating the path it had taken last night.

Remus' breath caught as those warm deft fingers slipped down the back of his trousers.

Oh fuck, yes, it looked like Snape hadn't forgotten anything at all.

With that, everything got a lot more serious. Remus pressed back against the touch, letting his body broadcast that yes, yes, pray continue. Every brush of Snape’s fingertips made him tingle or gasp, until he was panting softly, spreading his legs. Snape was barely touching him, not pushing into him at all, but _fuck_ , Remus thought: he was _made_ for this. He was like a pinch of saffron under Snape's fingers, plumping up and blazing brightly, the world becoming a riot of colour as Snape anchored their hips together and gave a cautious thrust.

" _Nnh_ ," Remus grunted, and crawled half on top of him, sliding his thigh between Snape's legs and thrusting down. He was panting against Snape's mouth, couldn't help it, trying to kiss him between his own frantic noises.

The hand on Remus' arse started squeezing rhythmically, Snape's fingers sliding more firmly between his cheeks, urging him to move faster as Snape arched up to match Remus' thrusts. Remus broke off from kissing and supported himself on his hands, all the better to put his back into grinding, glaring down at Snape with his teeth clenched and breath ragged. Snape's eyes were shut tight, urgent restraint in the lines of his face. Remus wavered with sudden affection that evaporated when Snape's eyes flicked open; _then_ , he almost growled.

Snape's eyes closed again and his free hand slid up the back of Remus' neck, pulled him down into a kiss. _Oh_ , Remus thought, _this is it_. Everything felt _right_ , Snape rising hard up beneath him, fingers spreading his arse, and he was going to come, it was building, any moment now, rushing, blindingly happy and _hot_ —

"Final call for third-years and above. Ten minutes until the Hogsmeade trip," came an unctuous announcement from the painting beside the window.

Their smooth rolling rhythm stuttered, and the kiss broke apart.

"Bugger," Remus growled, falling sideways.

Snape made a frustrated noise but took his hand out of Remus' trousers. The skin-on-skin slide of that movement made Remus shiver, and for an insane moment he entertained the idea of skipping Hogsmeade this month. He could sneak Snape into Gryffindor tower and turn the paintings in the boys' dorm to face the wall.

Snape rolled out from underneath him, looked at the door, and grimaced.

Remus followed his gaze and the world swung wildly. It was just paranoia, Remus knew, but for one horrible moment he thought he saw the door start to open. He imagined Sirius' face on discovering them, and a cold flood of cock-wilting dread swept over him. It did not seem so amusing, this morning.

"Um—I'd better go," Remus said, looking around for his shirt. There; crumpled and flung aside. He grabbed it and shoved his arms in, intensely aware of the bright sunlight outside.

Please, please let them not have been checking the Map.

"Right," he said, jumping to his feet and gritting his teeth against the surge of his hangover. He felt dizzy with it, stunned. He didn’t know what he felt about Snape, now. Maybe he felt nothing! Maybe the potion had worn off at last and now he was—normal, again. He righted his clothes with hasty hands, wishing Snape would put _his_ shirt on as well, would stop looking so rumpled and incongruous and _available_. "I'm going to have to, um - I can't miss the trip."

Without looking at him, Snape lifted an unconcerned hand in farewell.

Remus winced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He definitely didn’t feel normal again. He definitely, unfortunately, still wanted Snape to look at him, and more besides. _Snivellus_ , he heard; Sirius' voice in his ear.

Remus settled on: "Look, I... I'll... I've got to go. I'll see you later.” Then, backing out the door and feeling sick to his stomach, he added, "Um. Sorry."

Snape looked at him, his face impassive. Whatever heat had been in his eyes before was banked, or possible extinguished forever.

Remus did the only thing he could think of, and waved.

Snape continued to just look at him.

"Bye," Remus tried, feeling his cheeks start to colour, and left, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Yes, well," he thought he heard Snape say. "It would be notable if you weren't in the thick of things."


	2. Chapter 2

"What were you doing with Snivellus?" James asked, as they walked down the main street. "We looked for you earlier."

Remus concentrated on not missing a step. “Homework for Slughorn," he said. "We thought we'd get it done straight away, leave the rest of the weekend free. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," he said, pouring more words into the silence as Sirius and James looked strangely at him. "Didn't get much done, ‘cos my brain was a bit dead after that yellow potion this afternoon. He's not that bad," he added, a note of exasperation sharpening his voice, when Sirius and James exchanged glances.

"He's a miserable creep, Moony," James said.

"Two talents," Sirius said, smirking; "swotting and sarcasm."

"You want to watch he's not rubbing off on you," James said. "I'm worried about you. Homework on a Friday night, indeed."

 _Didn't have enough time for proper rubbing off_ , Remus thought wistfully, despite himself. He’d resolved not to think about the whole confusing business until he got home.

"...Not natural."

"What?" Remus said, alert again, every nerve on edge, ready to deny everything.

James laughed. “What’s wrong with you today? Or has that slime-ball infected you? Made you incapable of carrying on a normal conversation with decent people…”

Ah. Not an accusation, then. Not exactly.

"Give over," Remus said, his thoughts thick with unspent adrenaline.

Sirius was frowning. "Oh, Moony,” he said. “Please don't tell me you're going through another wretched warlock phase."

Remus gave him a disgusted look. The thing with Alfred Waxlington had barely lasted two weeks, and still they harped on about it as if Remus had been about to run off with him.

"Because you've got to learn,” Sirius continued, his breezy voice undercut with steel, “there are leagues to this sort of thing. A natural order. Take Wormtail - the girls I like would never go to dinner with him, and I would never go to dinner with any girl that liked Wormtail. You see?"

"I'm not going to _dinner_ with Snape," Remus snapped. "I don't even like him. But I don't hate him any more, either - and you two could be less rotten sometimes."

There was a pause. Remus' heart lurched: Sirius had heard something in his voice.

Sirius' eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped and slowed. "I don't like where this is going."

He'd said too much. "It's not going anywhere."

"Fine," Sirius said evenly, "but just so you know. He is beneath us, and he is a miserable, vicious cretin who's given us nothing but insults for years - worse than insults. And if you do anything with him, Moony, I swear, I will be _so angry_."

"I won't," Remus protested, his eyebrows flying up. "What do you take me for?" he added, belatedly trying to blot out the memory of Snape beneath him, holding him, making him groan.

  


***

  
Hogsmeade was its usual breath-of-fresh-air entertaining, but for Remus it passed all too slowly. He kept forgetting that the previous night had happened, and then slamming back into the memories at the most awkward of moments.

He forgot about it completely whilst sneaking into Honeydukes' back room to pick up the import-strength Turkish Delight they'd ordered under a false name - sidling in, with the invisibility cloak snug around his ears, as James distracted the man behind the counter by toying loudly with the idea of buying the most expensive confectionary in the shop. But afterwards, emerging into the prickling cold outdoors, he was hit by a sudden memory of Snape's bare hand sliding down his back.

"Aladdin's Flutes," James was saying, patting the brown paper package he'd tucked under his arm. "There's a book of sheet music in there - I don't see any reason they wouldn't work with gin, though we can practise on water if you're scared."

Remus sucked in a few deep breaths and concentrated on stowing the Turkish Delight deep in his satchel. The sensation of Snape's palm, pressing just above Remus' trouser waistband, was throbbing now, the memory shockingly vivid. But then, it was the first intimate touch he'd had in months, and definitely the first carrying the promise of _more_. It was natural for Remus to be re-living it like this. Anyone would.

" _I'm_ not scared," Sirius was saying. "I've tried one before. Managed to make milk taste like chocolate ice cream. Hmm - three o'clock."

Remus glanced around, and James made an approving noise. Across the frosty street, a handful of girls from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team were making their way into The Leaky Cauldron, past a blackboard that proclaimed a special offer on Mulled Mead every day of December.

"I don't know about you," Sirius said with a grin, already crossing the road, "but I'm thirsty."

Inside, the pub was warm and busy and smelled of woodsmoke and treacle.

Remus went straight to the bar, leaving Sirius and James to argue over which table of girls they should focus their attentions upon.

His hands felt a little shaky as he patted through his pockets for coins, and he had to clear his throat twice before giving his order. His thoughts kept slipping back to last night, with a regularity that he recognised was problematic. The look in Sirius’ eyes had chilled him just as much as remembering Snape’s disconcerting confidence warmed him through. He was between a rock and a hard place, he thought, and smirked at his own joke before feeling a bit deflated that there was literally nobody he could share it with.

He knew the sensible thing to do would be to heed Sirius’ warning, and rule out any possible future encounter. Never look at Snape again.

Never.

Right.

The bar girl set three pints of steaming spiced mead in front of him, and smiled as he paid.

Even as she gave him his change, Remus was remembering the sensation of Snape’s mouth sliding down his neck, exploring him.

Never seemed like a really, really long time.

When he turned again to look for the others, the three pints clamped firmly together in his fingers, it seemed that James had won on the matter of table choice. The two of them were sitting in a rounded window seat with Susan, one of Lily’s friends, whilst the Hufflepuff girls were crowding into a booth across the other side of the room.

Sirius reached up to relieve Remus of the pints, and slid along to make room for him, almost pushing James into Susan's lap. She giggled a great deal and moved up, then giggled some more when the friend with whom she'd arrived returned from the bar holding a bottle of something fizzy and purple. The friend also giggled.

Remus looked at Sirius, who subtly rolled his eyes, turning in his seat to face Remus and giving the giggling - and James - his shoulder.

"Turns out Her Highness hasn't come to Hogsmeade today," he told Remus sagely, and sipped his mead. "Probably," he said, "too busy saving orphaned kittens from vindictive witches. Ow," he added, and Remus realised James had elbowed Sirius in the back.

Remus laughed, wondering distractedly why that _ow_ had kindled a glimmer of excitement in himself, then remembered his own _ow_ , beside the tree, as Snape had rolled him over onto something sharp, his body lean and hot in the night air. That fever of touching had been—something else. Remus pressed his lips together, realising that in all honesty he hadn’t ruled anything out at all.

 _Never_ was - inconceivable.

"So, why were you so keen to sit with them?" Remus asked Sirius, nodding over his own shoulder at the booth of Hufflepuffs and hoping the flash of heat hadn’t shown on his face.

Sirius glanced in that direction, then sipped for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was thoughtful: "You sit next to Enid Featherview, don't you? In History of Magic."

Remus nodded, feeling unaccountably wary. "Snooze next to, more like."

"Well," Sirius said, and leant closer, "she's over there, and I wanted to talk to her."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Didn't think she was your type."

"Oh, gracious no," Sirius said, and smiled into his pint. "But if I'm ever going to get Emilia Stanton-Lewis into bed, I need her on my side." He took another slow sip. "If you don't convince their friends that you're good news, you never get anywhere. Or at least," he said, and grinned wolfishly, "you never get anywhere _twice_."

At least Snape didn't have any friends that needed convincing, part of Remus' brain mused - the part that had been trained by Sirius for as long as he could remember. He realised his own pint was untouched, then took rather too much and swallowed hard. Its strong, honeyed heat spread through him, all too soon reminding him of the glow coaxed up by Snape's hands, by Snape's mouth on his chest, by the touch of him—

“—Or if you don't plan to call her over yourself," Sirius was saying, a hard sort of mischief in his eyes, "maybe I should go after all - and tell her you've sent me to fetch her for you."

"What?" Remus said in alarm, snapping out if it. "No. Don't - she'll think it's _me_ asking."

"That is the first step in picking up a girl, yes," Sirius said, smiling as Remus glared at him.

"That isn't—"

"Come on," Sirius scoffed easily, "seriously - you haven't seen anyone since that Waxlington debacle, about which the less said the better. It's time you jumped back in the saddle! Ideally with someone more your own league.”

"Just so you can get in Emilia's good books?"

"Oh, live a little," Sirius said, with congenial cruelty, and started waving at the Hufflepuff table.

"Stop it," Remus snapped, grabbing his arm and forcing it down, growling through gritted teeth. " _Stop_ it. I _don't_ want to pick anyone up—and anyway," thinking of Snape, thinking helplessly and irrevocably of Snape, "even if I did, I wouldn't need your help, I'm perfectly capable of finding my own—"

He realised that James was glancing at him from where he was canvassing Lily's giggling friends for gossip. His voice had raised without his intention.

He shut his mouth and let go of Sirius' arm.

Sirius stretched languorously, and reached for his pint. "Tense, Moony," he said. "It's all that studying. Homework on a Friday, indeed. I only have your best interests at heart, anyway - or are you going to tell me you're planning not to have _any_ sort of love-life between now and the exams?"

Remus made a cross noise, glaring, then pretended to relent. "I'll thank you to stay away from my love-life, Black," was all he said, making it sound like a joke.

Sirius laughed.

  


***

  
The girls next to James sashayed away, all fluttering fingers and sideways glances at each other.

Sirius jumped to his feet to wave at them, then leered down at Remus and James. "Another for the road?"

They shook their heads, and Sirius snorted and headed off to the bar anyway. Remus ran his tongue around his teeth. Drinking Christmas mead was like chewing honeycomb after a while - the buzz was nice, but Sirius was the only one who ever wanted second helpings.

"Look here," James said suddenly, leaning in closer. He had smudges of lipstick on his cheek, and a slightly glazed, earnest frown. "Sirius thinks you did something with Snape. _Did something_ , you know?"

Remus laughed. "What a revolting thought."

James looked pained, and caught hold of Remus' elbow. He'd clearly been fed a fair amount of the girls' purple fizz. "That's what I said. And I think you need your head looking at if it's true. But - look here, if you _are_ starting to like him, you'd better stand up to Sirius and damn the consequences. That's what I did - it's the only way."

The hairs on the back of Remus' neck were quivering. "I _don't_ like him," he bit off, pushing his glass away and glaring at James. His heart was in his throat, threatening to burst. "What do you take me for? I'm using him, if you must know," he added, inspired, swallowing it down. "That's why I'm bothering with him at all. He takes better Potions notes than anyone I've ever met, and believe me, I need to do well in Slughorn's report or I'll be in hideous trouble next term."

James was looking more relieved the more Remus lied. "I thought it must be something like that," he said, and huffed out a breath. "Thank heaven. He'd blow his top! Can you imagine the lengths he'd go to, to split you two up?”

“I’d fear for the safety of everyone involved,” Remus said.

James leaned against him and laughed, soft and relieved. “Yes. Exactly. Not to worry then - but if he looks at you funny over the next few days, that's why. He's just trying to catch you up to no good."

"Who's up to no good?" Sirius bellowed, returning from the bar with a pint of something red and bubbling.

"You are!" James replied, with Remus chiming in a beat behind, trembling with the realisation that he'd got away with it... this time.

  


***

  
When Sirius had realised that Lily Evans was padding in between them, cordoning James off for herself, he hadn’t liked it one bit.

Of _course_ Remus remembered what a hard time he'd given James, and Lily too, for that matter, testing her mettle. But the thought of taking Sirius aside, like James had, of telling him firmly to fuck off or treat them with some respect, like James had—

Sirius had liked Lily.

 _I swear, Moony, I will be so angry._

This - if it was anything at all, which Remus doubted - was quite, quite different.

  


***

  
When they got back to the Gryffindor common room, Remus gave in and wrote the scroll that had been forming and re-forming in his mind all the way up the hill.

 _Sorry for running off this morning_ , he wrote. He owed Snape that much. _I don't want it to be strange._

He stared at the page, remembering the smirk that reached Sirius' eyes, then wrote, _We can forget it if you like._

  


***

  
 _You did vanish rather_. Then, a different pressure of quill and a different slant to the cramped handwriting: _Since the strangeness continued this morning, I doubt it will be forgotten without trying_.

"Who's that from?" Sirius said, looking at the owl pecking at the stone window sill.

Remus looked round at him. "My aunt. The one who still talks to me."

"Oh," Sirius said, his interest visibly waning. He turned to open another butterbeer - they'd sneaked an entire casket back from Hogsmeade, and as James had put it, if they could drink it all tonight then they'd be much less likely to get caught. "Send anything good?"

"Just, you know, best wishes, that sort of thing," Remus said.

When Sirius was safely out the way again, he re-read the note from Snape four times, and found that he was gripping the paper so hard the ink was beginning to bleed against the tip of his thumb. He should burn it, rip it up, despite Snape's careful language. There was no possible way that pursuing this could go well.

Remus scribbled, _If it’s convenient for you, we can meet by the statue of Cerberus on the seventh floor. After supper. There's this secret room. We could talk there._

  


***

  
He resisted checking the Map for all of forty minutes. When he finally gave in, the Snape dot was moving through the Slytherin dungeons.

He watched it for a few seconds, then glanced around the room, feeling his face heat up. It still embarrassed him to admit, even in the privacy of his own head, that he wanted - that dot.

The dot stopped.

He was probably doing some homework, Remus thought. Just because he was in a dorm, and there weren't any other dots near him - that didn't mean he was in bed. Obviously it didn't. It was only late-afternoon.

Still, unbidden images moved insidiously into Remus' mind. Soft, blurry images that made his skin prickle with heat.

Remus cancelled the Map and put it away, then slipped off to the bathroom, cheeks burning, his cock weighing down the front of his trousers.

As soon as he was alone, the images sharpened, making him catch his breath. Oh, yes, he really did want - that.

In the satiny embrace of the Euphoria, he’d thought it was uncomplicated. Now, he could admit there was something sort of exciting about it being Snape, of all people - a dirty secret, all the more intriguing for being forbidden.

He imagined Snape thinking about him, hunched over in his bunk with his hand moving rapidly, Remus' scroll crumpled in his other fist. He knew what Snape sounded like now, his little grunts and catches of breath, the fine line of his jaw as he gritted his teeth… and suppertime seemed so very far away…

Remus locked himself in a cubicle, heart racing. The butterbeer had made him feel light and warm, and set his imagination in motion. He found himself picturing Snape joining him, knocking on the door and slipping in beside him - dour and uncommunicative as ever, but there for a reason. There for him. Finding him… compelling.

Remus got his cock out and leant against the cubicle wall: head back, eyes closed, mind buzzing. He wondered if Snape had ever sucked anyone - he must have, to act like that, so sure of himself, sticking his hand down Remus' trousers like that. Or else, fucking cocky. He knew what he wanted, anyway.

Remus spat on his fingers and started stroking himself with both hands, squeezing to feel his cock harden even more, working it with the old familiar routine while his mind thrilled him with interesting new pictures. It sat Snape on the closed toilet seat, his face level with Remus' hips, his hands on Remus' arse again, looking up at him. It lowered the rounded head of Remus' cock onto Snape's tongue, warm and glistening wet. It showed him Snape's eyelashes darting down.

Remus started stroking faster, breathing faster. The closest he'd come to actually having someone's mouth on him like this was - well, a couple of haphazard fumbles after one of Sirius' parties. Didn't matter right now, though: those insubstantial sense-memories were more than enough to get him going. He licked his hand again, getting it wet, sucking his fingers, thinking, _Yes, yes_. He cupped the head of his cock, still stroking the rest with the other hand, and pretended that Snape's mouth was closing around him; twisted, and imagined the rub of Snape's tongue.

And - he could move, he thought. Hold Snape's head with both hands and press his cock further into his mouth: slide it, thrust it. He sped up again and bit his lower lip, hot sensation rushing and building. He dropped one hand to his balls and found his fingers sliding further back, moving on curiosity rather than desire, skating across the sensitive skin; on an upstroke, he pushed one fingertip a forced fraction inside himself.

 _Dear sweet fucking—_

He came with a strength that left him shuddering.

Seconds whizzed past before he sat down heavily on the cold toilet seat, stunned.

That had been... intense.

His heart was hammering, and his head was full of bright points of light. Fuck, if Snape ever did that to him, if he did what they’d talked about—

Remus shuddered anew, and his cock twitched in his lax hand. If... well.

 _It would be interesting_ , he thought carefully, and reached for the toilet paper.

 _  
_

***

  
Supper was a dreary affair, with everyone too stuffed with Hogsmeade chocolate to really taste the food. Remus ate two portions of toad-in-the-hole out of habit, and had to skip the trifle. He sat between Peter and Susan, a fact for which Susan seemed grateful, although apparently not grateful enough to actually talk to him.

Sitting across the table from Remus, James was making Lily a folded orange bird out of his napkin, leaning back from her and obscuring Remus' view of the Slytherin table. It was probably for the best that Remus couldn't see. He'd felt edgy throughout the meal, his attention spiking every time James' head had dipped and given him a direct line of sight to Snape: right there, yet so utterly distant from him.

Snape hadn't looked at him once.

"And?" Lily said archly, when James presented the bird on the palm of his hand. Her eyes were fond, and the way their shoulders were aligned suggested their knees were pressed together beneath the table.

"Oh, you want me to make it _fly_ ," James murmured, encircling the bird with his hands. He lowered his head to mouth a spell into the bird's ear, the words smothered in his fingers. Behind him, Remus caught another glimpse of Snape, pouring himself some pumpkin juice.

"No, I want to know the vocal," Lily protested, as James threw the bird into the air and obscured Remus' view once more; the bird fluttered lopsided to the ceiling and started making circles. The napkin must have had a droplet of water on it.

"Ah, the vocal is a long-held secret." James leaned closer to her, giving Remus an unobstructed view once more. "You'll have to tease it out of me..."

Remus tried to pay polite attention to their exchange, but they were nauseating, and Sirius, on James' other side, was busy applying himself to his trifle, and Snape was _right there_. Snape was in conversation with a pale boy with strange scars on the backs of his hands. He was watching the boy impassively as he talked and gestured, regarding him with a certain disdain but - undeniably - listening.

Remus swallowed. He could admit that there was something mesmerising about Snape, about how he held himself, how he looked. Watching this far removed, Remus thought it must be the white-dark contrast in his face. At this distance, Snape's mouth was dark and well-shaped, his eyes were sulky, and his hair seemed to fall in artful blocks. Close up... well. Remus was not about to forget the slant of those lashes as his mouth bent to Remus' nipple, as he worked his way down Remus' chest, lips skimming and exploring. That unexpected confidence, which had made Remus more intrigued than ever.

"...I don't know what's better, the sweetness or the texture. But you mustn't take my word for it," James was saying.

Remus licked his lips and tried to pay attention. He was getting a lot of practice in hiding the transition from lost in daydreams to fully alert, today. "It's good," he assured Susan, and nodded at James. "Took us months to work out the logistics, but it's really special, definitely worth the extra time and cost. I honestly couldn't go back to normal Turkish Delight now."

"Good things come to those who wait," Lily said slyly.

James leaned into her a little, making a feeble attempt not to beam. Remus glanced over James' shoulder and saw Snape raising his eyebrows at the pale boy, who launched into a volley of head shaking and quick words. Snape ate a spoonful of trifle and watched him, head cocked. Remus thought about sliding his hand around the back of Snape's neck, then cut that thought off and boxed it tightly in the back of his mind.

"I can't imagine it would be that different," Susan was saying, wrinkling her nose.

Sirius leaned in and spoke conspiratorially soft. "You don't think there's a reason the import-strength boxes are forbidden to school attendees?"

"We're having a party tonight," James added, with a smile and a one-shouldered shrug. "Gryffindor Tower. Come. You can see for yourself. You'll come, won't you?" he added, looking only at Lily, his voice softening cautiously. "Not go off with that Ravenclaw bunch, like last time?"

Remus wondered what would happen if he invited Snape to the party.

Probably, Sirius would set something on fire.

Lily reached for her pumpkin juice, and sipped before answering. "Why not," she said, and smiled, looking at him over her glass.

" _Good_ ," James said fervently, holding her gaze. "It's going to be a wonderful night."

It was not the right time to look over at Snape again. Too obvious. Immediately, Remus' curiosity burned - what Snape was doing now? Who with? How involved was he? - but he kept his eyes steadfastly on the table. Then he realised there was only a little bit of juice left in his glass. He reached for it, timing the back-tipping of his head as he drained the glass to coincide with a momentary glance in Snape's direction.

He had to internalise a scowl as a pair of Slytherins paused in front of Snape at just that moment, getting in the way.

"I used to get silly after two pieces of the Turkish Delight they used to sell on the train, if I hadn't had lunch," Susan was saying to Sirius, her lashes sweeping down and up. "I wonder what this stuff will do to me."

Remus set his glass down firmly and dragged his concentration back to the conversation.

"That's not all we've got in our bag of tricks," Sirius told her. He really had the soft, suggestive tone down to a tee. "Have you ever heard of Aladdin's Flutes? The drinking straws?"

"I hadn't," Remus said quickly, trying to seem involved. "But they're apparently really good."

"Oh, they're something _else_ ," Sirius murmured, and Susan touched her throat and leaned towards him. "Depending on your skill at playing, you can change the flavour of anything you drink through them."

"Just imagine the possibilities," James said, breaking away from whatever he was saying to Lily and giving Susan a rakish grin.

Lily watched him, her eyes momentarily dismayed, then sat up straighter and dropped her hand beneath the table, presumably onto James' thigh. "Can you show me how to play one?" she pressed, looking just at James, who immediately diverted his attention wholly back to her.

"Of course," he said, and the Slytherins moved on behind his shoulder.

In that instant Remus had a clear view of Snape again, now nodding at the pale boy, mouth tight in a slight smile. Renewed curiosity rushed through him like a spark hitting paraffin.

Snape stood up and pushed his chair under, smoothing his robes absently over his hips and talking down to the pale boy, who was still sitting. Snape’s hair was tucked behind his ear, and Remus stared at the triangle of white skin between his jaw and his black collar, wondering what it would feel like against his mouth, trying to remember - and then he realised that Sirius had started to look around for what Remus was looking at, and thanked his lucky stars that the Jake Morris, captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team, was also striding past.

Remus followed Jake with his gaze, all the way to the door, and then blinked and focused on his table again, allowing a smirk to cross his lips in a private sort of way.

"Great, so, tonight at nine," Sirius said, soft-voiced again, looking back to Susan. After a moment he added, ever so casually, "Oh, you hang around with that new girl, Emilia, don't you? Let her know she’s welcome to join us too…”

Remus, heart in his throat, thought he'd probably got away with it.

He didn't dare look in Snape's direction again.

  


***

  
After supper, Remus went back to Gryffindor tower in hope of finding the Map again, but it wasn’t in its usual hiding place of the secret panel in Sirius' big wooden trunk. He spent a fruitless ten minutes looking for it, before giving up, a tight twist of anxiety settling low in his stomach. He'd feel a lot happier if it were in his possession, right about now.

Still, it couldn't be helped. And this was just... he didn't know what this was. It still might be nothing. Snape might not even turn up.

Remus took the long way around to the statue of Cerberus, his chest becoming tighter with every swinging staircase.

He felt short of breath by the time he saw Snape, leaning against a doorway, a few paces down the corridor from the three-headed stone dog. Snape was reading a scroll, held open in both hands. Remus' heart thumped as Snape looked up, his eyes full of cool shadows.

"Hello," Remus said, and now it seemed absurd that he'd looked away during supper. This... wasn't nothing. "Sorry I'm late," he said, passing a hand through his hair and trying a smile. He was half-hard just with the sight of him. He wanted to walk close and press up against him, kiss him against the wall, close his fists in Snape's hair and torment him until he panted.

"You didn't specify a time," Snape said, and busied himself with rolling the scroll and sliding it carefully back into his bag. The familiar dry flatness of his voice was stupidly exciting.

"Well, still," Remus shrugged, and glanced over Snape's shoulder, down the empty corridor. "Do you want to see this room? I, er, I thought it." He suddenly felt presumptuous, and his face started to heat up. "Well, it's not another trophy room, put it like that."

"I'm intrigued," Snape said, looking anything but.

Remus cleared his throat and nodded. "Right. Well," he said, and led the way towards the Barnabus tapestry.

Snape kept pace with him, more like a hawk than a companion.

Somewhere between the scroll-writing and finishing supper, Remus realised, part of him had started to imagine that they'd hold hands.

He consciously relaxed his fingers, and steered a little closer to Snape as they strode along, hoping that his knuckles would graze the back of Snape's hand, that Snape would— But of course, he thought, as his knuckles did brush Snape's hand and Snape smoothly shifted his course to evade him, it was stupid to hold hands in a corridor. Anyone could see.

But it would be nice, whined a corner of his brain, if Snape gave him a hint that he wasn't here strictly under duress.

He told that part of himself that Snape wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be, and then turned into the final corridor and came face to face with a hurrying Emilia and Enid from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Enid blushed and smiled at him, and passed a hand quickly over her hair, tucking it behind her ear. "Remus!"

"Hello," Remus said, stopping, burningly aware of Snape lingering next to him. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," Enid said quickly, and glanced fawn-eyed at Emilia. "Um, have you met Emilia Stanton-Lewis? She just transferred to Hogwarts this term. Emmie, this is Remus Lupin and - Severus Snape. Remus is in some of my classes."

"Hello," said Emilia, and there was a pause.

"Hello," Snape said quietly, after a moment.

Enid smiled brightly. "Right, well - we'd better get a move on, Emmie. Our team's having a top secret conference, and we're astonishingly late," she said, to Remus. "They're going to think they kept it too secret, at this rate."

"That would never do," Remus said, managing a smile.

Enid beamed at him. "Exactly. Toodle-oo, and all that. Lovely to bump into you both." She turned her unwavering smile on Snape. "Good night."

"Good night," Snape echoed, and Emilia favoured them both with a flash of her teeth.

"Good luck with your conference," Remus said, and stood aside to let them pass, and Enid laughed obligingly, and led Emilia off down the hall.

Remus started walking again, liking the way that Snape fell into step beside him.

"Well," Snape said, under his breath, as soon as the girls had turned the corner. "That was inane."

Remus chuckled.

Snape looked at him.

"Nothing," Remus said, curbing himself.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"I mean," Remus offered, "I just like how you think, it's very refreshing," shrugging in an effort to dilute his words.

Snape’s look turned skeptical. After a pause, he said, "I would have thought that you would be... concerned that they'd seen us together."

"Concerned? Don't be stupid," Remus said, stopping before the invisible door. Not about _that_ , he thought, as the unbidden image of the Map confronted his mind's eye. He blocked it out - there was no reason James or Sirius would want to look at it now, and even if they did, once they were inside the Room they wouldn't show up.

"If you say so," Snape said, looking over Remus' shoulder.

Remus resisted the urge to look behind him, and scowled at Snape. "I'm not concerned," he said.

"Which is why we're skulking around on the seventh floor," Snape said sharply, then looked over Remus' shoulder again.

"Look here,” Remus snapped, “I hardly thought you'd like to share an after-dinner pumpkin juice in the main hall. And anyway, that's not why we're skulking about. I actually wanted to show you something I thought you might like."

Snape focused on him. "And what is that?"

"This," Remus said, and framed the bare wall with his hands.

Snape's eyes narrowed again.

"You have to walk with me," Remus said.

Snape frowned at that - but when Remus began the requisite paces back and forth, Snape shadowed him in compliant silence.

 _Bed_ , Remus thought, staring at the floor. _Bed, I need a bed, I need privacy and time and pillows._

"Oh," Snape said, and came to a halt in front of the dark cedar door that had just appeared. His look was still guarded, but his eyes had flared with interest.

Remus relaxed a minute amount, and attempted a gallant smile. "After you," he said, and Snape, stiff-shouldered, gripped the door handle gingerly, then twisted and pushed.

Holding his breath, Remus followed him inside.

  


***

  
 _Bed_ , Remus thought crossly, a moment later. He'd needed a bed.

When in his _life_ had he needed a dim, dingy, smoky room full of what looked suspiciously like Muggle criminals?

He glanced at Snape, who looked aghast, and was wearing - not robes. Blue and black, shiny black. Remus looked down at himself in alarm. He watched his hand fly to his own chest, then recoil at the foreign fabric that his nice, sleek robes had turned into. It was - his mind struggled, groping for the words - denim. A denim jacket. And… jeans? Like a Muggle workman. When had he _ever_ needed to look like a Muggle workman, Room?

"Is this a joke?" Snape said, his voice turning dangerously light. He didn't seem to have noticed the costume change. His black leather jacket, Remus couldn't help but notice, sat disturbingly well on him.

"I think," Remus said, "the Room dressed us appropriate to the environment. I didn't know it could do that," he added, more to himself than anything, as an irreverent part of his mind wondered what they would have been wearing had the Room provided them with the bed he'd expected.

"No - how did we get here?" Snape demanded, staring - as well he might - with disbelief at the hideous orange-blue swirled carpet, the broken clock on the opposite wall, the nicotine-coloured lampshades, the criminals.

"Apparently the Room thought we needed to go to prison," Remus said dryly, and rubbed his denim-clad arms with both hands, then paused when he realised that Snape had now turned that roving glare on _him_.

"We're not in prison." Snape's voice was half impatience, half disdain. "We're in a _pub_."

Remus dropped his arms again. "It looks like a prison to me."

"Well, it isn't. Do you want a drink?"

Remus frowned, taken aback. He'd not, even for a moment, considered staying. "Do _you_?"

"More every second," Snape muttered, and gave the room another once-over. "What, dare I ask, was that door supposed to do?"

Faced with what the door had done, Remus felt not-inconsiderably abashed as he said, "Provide us with what we, uh, needed."

"Interesting," Snape said. "But how did it—" He cut off. "Absurd," he said.

Remus started to agree, and then realised Snape had an extra fierce tension to his shoulders, an almost hunted look. He said, “Look here, do you know this place or something?"

Snape didn't answer for a moment, then shook his head. “ _No_ ,” he said. "It is a curious illusion, however."

"In that case," Remus said cautiously, "the Room is probably broken, because I can't think of a reason it should bring us to a place like this."

"No," Snape agreed, and folded his arms.

"So, we can leave if you want," Remus added, fairly sure that the three steps it would take to get back through the door were the most inviting he'd ever visualised. "It is kind of... tough-looking."

There was a long, long pause, and then Snape stood up straighter. "Or maybe," he said, in a new voice, as if testing something unfamiliar, "it brought us here because I'm thirsty. And they sell Samuel Smiths. That could well be it. Do you like bitter?"

Remus waited, immeasurably tense. Snape looked at him. Eventually, Remus said, "Bitter what?"

Snape made a noise like _hah_ , and the tension shifted into something warmer. Maybe... maybe they were going to stay. "Bitter," Snape said. "Like beer, but with an actual taste. Like ale," he said, looking exasperatedly amused, when Remus still just looked at him.

"Right," Remus said carefully, and made a decision: anything, to keep that hunted look out of Snape's eyes. "Yes."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Yes, you like it?"

"Yes, if you're having one, I want one," Remus said, and risked a half-grin. "I will gladly defer to you on matters of beverages, as you clearly have more experience than I do.”

"Is that so," Snape said.

Remus gave him an assuring nod. There was a pause.

"Fine," Snape said, a moment later, and put his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket as he turned towards the bar, his mouth betraying a slight curve.

Encouraged, and in the hope of reminding Snape that they were here of their own volition, Remus lowered his voice and murmured after him, "After all, if that Euphoria was anything to go by..."

"You," Snape said, turning back, his voice suddenly hard and silken, "take that table by the dart board, and say nothing to anybody. I'll get you a drink."

"I'll give you some money," Remus said, feeling unaccountably flustered all of a sudden, and dug around in his - denim pockets. Ah.

Snape smirked at his expression. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, and walked off towards the bar.

Remus watched him insinuate himself between the other drinkers, skinny and slouching, casual as you please, confident, almost - quite unlike any way Remus had ever seen him look at Hogwarts - and then he realised that he was standing alone in the doorway now, and that a couple of hard-faced men were watching him watch Snape.

Time to move.

Swallowing, he walked in the direction Snape had indicated, towards a small table by a window. To one side, a large colourful circle was mounted on the wall - a strange sort of picture, as art went, but the only thing of colour in this smoky place, so he supposed it was attractive in its way.

"Watch out," growled a male voice, and Remus looked around, startled; there was a grizzly fellow some yards away, gesturing at him, nowhere near where Remus had walked.

"My apologies," Remus said, confused, and scuttled into his seat.

The man grunted and rocked back on his heels, then quick as a flash threw a tiny arrow at the colourful circle. It jammed into the middle and quivered.

Remus flinched, averting his eyes, and waited.

  


***

  
"You took your time," Remus said, when Snape set down two tall dark glasses with a clink and slid into the seat opposite him. He'd tried to look out of the window, but it was swirling fog out there - deeper than twilight, but not quite dark. The view had been stubbornly featureless, like something out of a haunted dream.

"I didn't," Snape said, and nodded at the clock on the wall.

Remus opened his mouth to point out that it was broken, that they'd easily been here twenty minutes already, and then felt a brief rub of Snape's foot against his ankle, under the table. He glanced at Snape sharply, his words evaporating.

Snape was taking a couple of mouthfuls of his drink, swallowing slowly, gaze roaming the room. The incongruity of sitting so close to him struck Remus all at once, like one of those little arrows jamming into the centre of his chest. He wet his lips, then lifted his glass to them.

Snape glanced back at him, and lifted the corner of his mouth, as if to say, _Yes?_

Remus sipped, and couldn’t keep down a wince before he swallowed. "Hm," he said, looking at his glass, not at Snape’s amused dark eyes. "I suppose, er, they don't sell mead here?"

"They really don't."

Remus swallowed once more against the strange taste, rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Wine?"

“No-oo,” Snape said, shaking his head, and smirked. "Ales, bitters or - well, they will have lager, might be more your thing, but they also might throw us out if you go up there asking for a child's drink, looking like that."

Remus tried to remember something useful about Muggle children. "Is it sweeter or something?" he said, and then, indignantly, catching up with himself, "Hang on, looking like what?"

"Like you're my Southern, underage boyfriend," Snape drawled, and his voice was mean but Remus' stomach tensed with pleasure.

"Well, I am Southern and underage," he said. He tilted his glass as if considering its merits, regarding the dull bounce of the light off the black liquid, then lifted it to his lips and looked up slyly. "Couldn't say as to the last." And he grinned a bit at Snape, and took a determinedly long swig of his very bitter Bitter, and nudged back when he felt Snape's foot nudge against his ankle again.

  


***

  
"I wonder if that's real," Remus said presently, looking at the swirling fog outside. "Doesn't match the weather at Hogwarts. But then, why would it? Magic realms often have their own weather template."

"You don't know that," Snape said, a trifle short.

Remus frowned, feeling fuzzy around the edges. "I know I've been in this Room a hundred times and often places have their own weather template."

"I meant you don't _know_ it's not the weather at Hogwarts. Or that we're not somewhere in the real world that has this weather."

"Oh," Remus said, drinking deeply to cover his confusion. "I see." He tried to pin down where he'd gone wrong. "But that's not how the Room works," he offered. "It doesn't take you places, it just gives you something useful."

"What if it would be useful to be somewhere else?"

Remus stared at the table. "I don't know," he said, after a while. He didn't understand, felt like they were talking at cross purposes. He fished for something else to say. "So, did you have a... nice Saturday?"

"Mediocre. Did you?"

"Um, yes," Remus said, promptly regretting having asked. He thought for a minute, unwilling to mention Sirius or James. "We bought some import-strength Turkish Delight," he tried; he felt that was quite impressive, for seventeen year olds, and watched for a reaction.

Snape looked perplexed. "Import-strength?"

"From the Continent,” Remus said, with what he hoped was a knowing smile. He drank again, then gestured with his pint. "We had to order it under a false name. It's banned in school. It's much more expensive, but it's worth it."

"How odd," Snape said, and took another slow sip. Then he caught Remus' eye and explained: "I used to make Turkish Delight when I was a child. Quite a simple recipe. I had no idea it was regulated." He smirked. "But I suppose someone like Black would be more interested in spending extravagant amounts under a false name than learning the recipe himself. I take it you were with Black," he added, and Remus felt cornered.

"Yes," he said, and took another mouthful of bitter. He'd nearly finished it.

"Purchasing in time for the party tonight," Snape said mildly, and Remus felt the corner close in on him even more.

"Yes."

Snape tilted his head back to pour the last of his pint into his mouth, then looked sideways at Remus, his eyes hooded. "Don't worry, I know I'm not welcome there.”

Remus tried to look as if he weren't worried in the least. "It's not… I don’t… I doubt they'd miss me if I didn't turn up," he tried.

Snape looked disbelievingly at him. "Are you joking? I'm amazed Black hasn't sent someone after you already," he said, then looked over at the clock. "Still, it's not too late." He tilted his empty glass. "Another?"

Remus opened his mouth to explain that the clock wasn't working, then thought of James and Sirius, surrounding him with girls in Hogsmeade, never listening when Remus explained that he wasn't interested. He met Snape’s gaze. "Why not."

"You can have water if you want," Snape said slyly, as if drinks choices had been the root of Remus' hesitation. "But I'm a bitter man, myself."

Remus glanced sideways at him, but Snape was perfectly straight-faced. "Bitter's fine," he said.

Snape looked pleased as he scraped his chair back and padded over to the bar.

He still looked so thin, in amongst the stocky throng, but - comfortable, somehow.

  


***

  
"Premium," Snape said proudly, lowering himself into the seat opposite Remus again, having set another two glasses down. He didn't ask for any money, and Remus wondered if it was significant that he was being bought drinks.

He thought it probably just signified that he had no money with him.

Snape raised his glass to his lips. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Remus said, and tried to sip manfully. It wasn't at all bad.

  


***

  
"I wonder what time it is," Remus said, peering out the strange window, having made reckless inroads on the dark rich pint and suddenly feeling bubbles begin to creep up the back of his nose. "Must be gone nine by now."

"That clock definitely says seven," Snape said, nodding at the broken clock on the wall. "And since our tailors didn't see fit to issue us with timepieces..."

"...We can't be blamed for getting it wrong," Remus decided, now _trying_ not to think of Sirius, of James looking confused, of Emilia saying _Oh! She saw them..._

  


***

  
"It's... my old local," Snape said suddenly, in the middle of their third pint and their nineteenth attempt at a conversation. Their left ankles were resting against each other beneath the table. "It's the only decent pub in Normanton-on-Trent.”

Remus swallowed slowly, the room tilting a bit. "Right," he said, trying to work out what part of the country that was from.

"Never really come back here these days," Snape said, his eyes going thoughtful as he looked around.

Remus groped for something to say. "Well - no. You wouldn’t.”

Snape glanced at him, less than impressed.

Remus said, "I mean - school. It takes up a lot of time," and hoped fervently for a reply.

Snape looked away, apparently entertained but not sharing.

There was a pause.

Then Snape said, casually, "You can see my old house from upstairs." He frowned. "That is - unless it only gives you the one room."

 _It gives you what you need_ , Remus almost said, and shrugged instead. "Never really know what to expect," he said.

Snape was looking at him slower - or wasn't glancing away as quickly. "No," Snape said, and it was almost soft.

  


***

  
"So you..." Remus started, then broke off. In his head it had felt easier to say: _So you've actually had sex?_ Out loud, it made his tongue feel sticky in his mouth. He sipped to free it, and the words came out in a rush as soon as he'd swallowed: "You've gone all the way, then. With a boy."

Snape gave him a sardonic look. "Do you find that hard to believe?"

 _Well, yes_. "No, but - loads of people our age haven't."

"Like you," Snape said, his expression getting less readable by the second.

Remus stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "I mean, I've - I've done things. But not all the way. But you," he prompted, wanting to get the focus off himself and his embarrassing lack of experience. "You, ah..." He trailed off under Snape's steady regard.

"Last summer," Snape said, eventually. He swiped his finger across a few drops of spilled beer, drew a rune on the table. The wet shape glowed amber for a second before fading. "Here, actually. He worked behind the bar. We... saw a lot of each other."

"Oh," Remus said. He instinctively knew that he wasn't going to get any more than that, and his mind was already filling in the blanks: Snape and this boy, finding a likeness in each other, sharp gazes catching across the gruff, noisy pub. “Right.”

Snape's gaze flitted to him, then back to the table. He traced a different rune; this time it glowed pale pink. "He moved away. But not before," he added, a flicker of humour appearing in the dry undertone of his voice, "he taught me a thing or two."

Remus swallowed again, feeling as if Snape had traced one of those runes across his face, his cheeks heating fast. "I can imagine," he said, trying not to.

  


***

  
Walking to the Muggle bathroom brought home to Remus how much he'd drunk, and he found himself grinning lazily in the cracked sink mirror as he washed his hands.

Then he noticed the slow mutinous gazes of a couple of haggard Muggle men, and hurried back to their table.

Snape looked amused when Remus grimaced in greeting, then attentive when Remus paused to wriggle out of his stupid Muggle jacket before reaching gratefully for his glass again. Remus was bored of Muggle things now; and quite overheated.

He leaned in conspiratorially as he sat. "There are some horrendous men here," he told Snape, "especially in the loos," and tried to look worldly and complacent. "It's awful, I always attract such wretched warlocks."

Snape looked affronted. "Oh?"

"The vast majority of them," Remus assured him, sitting back and sipping his beer, and then blinked, and felt his face begin to glow. "That is," he said, "er, present company excluded."

"Glad to hear it," Snape said, and Remus drank deeply, trying to swallow down a sudden rush of ridiculous glee.

  


***

  
"By the way," Snape said, a few minutes later, the slight sly curl of a smile rising across his face, "in case you were wondering - I fixed the table."

Remus' head felt increasingly fogged from the beer, and his voice came slowly. "The table?"

"The table in the trophy room."

"Oh," Remus said. He cleared his throat, then rallied, pulling words from the syrup of the air: "Well, you broke it."

"I take full responsibility," Snape agreed mildly. "Next time you're in there, I'm sure it will look like nothing - happened."

"Mm," Remus agreed, and fished around for something else to say. It was coming more easily now that he wasn't paying too much mind to how Snape reacted, and he’d started to say the first things that came into his head. "How far away's your old house then?"

Snape's eyes were half-closed. "Not far," he said. And then idly, casually, "Do you want to see?"

"From upstairs?" Remus said, and then when Snape nodded, he swallowed. "Right," he said, and put his hands carefully flat on the table before pushing himself up to his feet. The world swelled gently beneath him, and for a few amused seconds Snape was the only thing focused in Remus' whole horizon.

  


***

  
The pub had several small warm upstairs rooms. Snape led the way up the stairs and Remus stumbled after him, velvety happy, light-footed without his jacket; suddenly there was a threadbare bed, with a misty window set back in the stone wall behind it. Remus sat on the bed, still holding his half-full beer, sipping when he remembered. The beer was warm and almost flat, but not bad.

He sipped again as Snape locked the door behind them and then walked past him to kneel up on the bed. He pointed at a smudge out the window that Remus dutifully peered at.

"Hm," Snape said, when the smudge remained resolutely without form. "The illusion must only reach the pub walls." He sat down next to Remus, resting his hand behind Remus' back on the mattress.

"Right," Remus agreed, nerves prickling under his skin. Then Snape, after a silent moment, took Remus' beer with his other hand and set it on the little wooden bedside-table with a dull _clink_ , and turned back to Remus with his eyes half-closed again, and kissed him.

Remus felt like the bed jolted beneath him. He brought both hands up to Snape's face, rubbing his thumbs against Snape's jaw as he kissed back, open-mouthed, his breath catching with eagerness. It felt different from last time - less sublime, more real; definitely more clumsy - and yet after what felt like a hundred stolen glances today, there was a new unreal quality to it too. _I want that dot,_ Remus thought to himself, and almost laughed into the kiss.

"What," Snape said, drawing back slightly. His voice was a shadow of its former self, which was - gratifying.

Remus leant in, grinning now. "Nothing," he said, and felt disproportionately pleased when Snape ducked to let him capture his mouth again. It was thrilling to imagine that Snape was even half as keen on this as he was. Against Snape's lips, Remus muttered, "So about those tricks you learned..."

Snape nipped at his tongue. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Remus made a soft growl in his throat, falling headlong into a haze of ragged kisses. The unreal quality of this place was stretched over them like a glamour, making everything taste better, feel better; on a glorious upswing of desire, as Snape sucked his tongue and twisted his fingers tightly in Remus' hair, Remus caught himself thinking that he never wanted to leave.

"Lift up," Snape rasped. With a start Remus realised Snape's fists were now buried in the stretchy thin garment next to his skin - a _tee shirt_ , he recalled - and trying to pull it off.

Remus drew back to struggle out of it himself, fingers shaky with excitement, but as his head popped free of the neckband his mind flashed back to reality, shocked at his own willing participation in this, at what the others would—

He looked up guiltily and then met Snape's eyes, opaque with intent, and stopped thinking.

Snape kissed him again, his warm hands sliding up Remus' back and over his shoulders, into his hair, down and up his back again. Remus tried to mirror him, but the black leather jacket was thick and unyielding under his fingers. He redirected his efforts from the front, reaching inside and gripping Snape's shoulders, and the heat under there made his mouth water. He squeezed, feeling the smoothness of him through thin cotton, muscle bunching tight as Remus' hands found the curve of his neck.

Remus made a frustrated noise, wanting more and unable to concentrate on getting it with Snape's hands sliding over his own bare skin.

"Take this - off," he muttered, pushing ineffectually at the stiff leather, then as Snape shrugged out of the jacket, transferred his pawing to the undershirt as well, "this too."

Snape stripped it off in a single pull, and was suddenly hot and half-naked and _right there_. Remus mumbled his approval and tried to stroke him all over, but Snape's mood seemed to have changed, and Remus found himself being pressed back into the softness of the bed, not unwilling but very… alert. The tug of gravity seemed to go on forever, until he was lying on his back with his legs wrapped loosely around Snape's legs, his head flying with dizziness, _wanting_ him.

Snape nuzzled the side of Remus' neck, then his chest, then started working at Remus' fly with both hands. He seemed fully absorbed with it, kissing Remus' stomach and sliding his chest against Remus' crotch, murmuring under his breath and - this couldn't be happening.

Whispers of anticipation threaded through Remus' stomach. Was Snape going to...? Remus swallowed and licked his lips. His fingers drifted towards Snape's hair, and he had to wrench them back to the mattress. He'd heard enough jokes from Sirius about accidentally pulling girls' hair, or about making girls think it was an accident, anyway.

Remus swallowed again, as Snape got his fingers into the front of Remus' jeans and brushed awkwardly around the waistband of his underwear, before getting a firm handhold, moving the fabric aside. He lifted Remus' cock clear of his stomach and, without looking up, took the head abruptly into his mouth.

"Oh fuck," Remus said, under his breath, and his head smacked back onto the mattress. His hands curled around the back of Snape's neck, sinking into the shifting softness of his hair, aching to hang on tight.

Snape sucked steadily, slowly rocking his head, as Remus got harder and harder in his mouth. He was starting to tremble as Snape spread both hands firmly on his thighs, pressing down.

"Oh fuck," he bit off, gritting his teeth, sliding his hips in a bid to push his cock right into the wet heat, _right_ in.

"Mmh," Snape murmured, twisting his head and sucking harder, wrapping one hand around the base of Remus' cock and started stroking.

“Yes—“

“Mmh,” Snape agreed, pulling gradually off and kneeling over him, his head bowed to lick at the very tip, his fist gently bumping his lips with each stroke.

"Oh fuck," Remus muttered, "please," almost beside himself and thrumming with pleasure.

Snape made an amused noise, and stopped.

“Fuck,” Remus moaned. “Please!”

Snape ignored him, kissing his way back up Remus' stomach, steadying himself with his free hand and playing across Remus' nipples with his tongue. His other hand kept moving, light strokes, almost casual, making a glow spread out in lapping waves beneath Remus’ skin.

Remus clutched at Snape’s smooth soft pale shoulders and tried to grind up. His toes curled against the sheets as Snape's hand paused altogether— and then Snape was sitting back on his heels astride Remus’ hips, and stroking his cock with both hands. The look on his face was almost proprietary, and he seemed to know exactly what he was doing: twisting there and squeezing here, rubbing his wet fingertips all over it as Remus cursed and squirmed.

"Fuck, yes," Remus growled, as those glowing waves crashed over him. He felt himself letting go, and loved the sound of his own voice, so broken: "Fuck, yes, fuck me, fuck, _please_." He tossed his head from side to side, wishing for Snape's hands to speed up, for his body to press down harder, for his mouth to _bite_.

Snape leaned suddenly down over him again, the length of his cock burning against Remus' thigh as his arm worked rhythmically between their stomachs. "You don't mean that," he said, against Remus' ear.

Remus bucked up against him, gritting his teeth, and abruptly realised what he’d said. _Fuck me_ ; Snape was asking about fucking him; the world tilted and went a misty pounding gold, and Remus groaned, almost coming over Snape's hand.

"What? Mean what?" he panted, caught on a knife-edge of pleasure and still not quite able to find more honest words.

He heard the breath of Snape's warm slight laugh against his ear. "I was asking," Snape said, still stroking him, “when you say that," his voice dropping, " _fuck me, please_ —“

Remus went taut as a bowstring, blood rushing in his ears.

“—Are you _really_ asking me to fuck you, or is it actually a lot less interesting than that?"

He'd tightened his hand for emphasis, and— it was enough. The images flashing up at Snape’s words would have been enough on their own; Remus came, losing himself in them, shuddering with warm pulses of relief. Snape's fist paused around him for a moment and then moved faster, tighter, and Remus was gasping and pushing weakly at the sheets by the time he started to come down.

Snape let go and wiped his hand on the bed, looking down. Lying there in swirling lassitude, Remus couldn't read his expression, but thought it sat somewhere between sardonic and amused and - fond.

Remus reached for his shoulder with clumsy fingers and coaxed him down. He grinned, feeling a stone's-throw from euphoria again, as Snape kissed him a couple of times - before making a soft, cut-off noise and reaching for Remus' hand.

Snape pulled Remus’ hand down between them and pressed it against the front of his jeans. The bulge of his cock felt unreasonably good against Remus’ fingers.

Remus swallowed and tried to clear his head, remembering that he wanted to be good at this. He wanted to be worth coming back to, worth considering for another go. He felt sticky and slick, unready to be anything but horizontal and panting, but there wasn’t time for that now; he moved around to settle on his hands and knees over Snape's legs on the bed, wiping his stomach off on the sheets as best as he could in the process, and tried to focus.

His head swam as he moved his palm over the front of Snape's trousers, feeling the shape of him through the strange snug denim. It was all suddenly so close to his face. He wrestled Snape's zip open and, as Snape shifted sinuously against him, eased open the waistband of his shorts, enough that the head of his cock could poke out.

And this was the right way to be good, surely, Remus thought, licking his lips and then lowering his mouth. He sucked lightly on the exposed skin, opening his mouth around the shape of him, pressing his forehead against Snape's warm stomach and nuzzling, not letting himself think too much about what he was doing because the very idea made him feel faint.

He'd never been tempted to do this with Wexlington - it really hadn't gone beyond looking at dirty, dirty pictures and kissing, and then, once he'd gone back to Scotland, an extravagantly imaginative letter or two. Here, he was pulling at Snape's clothes, working them open and out of the way, struggling to get more of him into his mouth, hasty and wet in his eagerness. This was... real.

He sucked harder and thought that he could feel the blood flowing in the skin beneath his lips. It was so _big_ , filling his mouth, poking the back of his tongue and sending up a flurry of prickling sensations. He tried to get a look at Snape by tilting his head, wanting to gauge his reaction; he held onto Snape's hips for balance and got distracted by the smooth skin there; he closed his eyes and it all got immensely more vivid.

He tried to remember what Snape had done to him, and moved his tongue as best he could, swallowing as he breathed in. A flood of salty slickness and musk threatened to overwhelm him, so real he almost fell over sideways.

Remus opened his eyes, his knees and elbows slipping against the sheets as he righted himself, and saw the muscles clenching in Snape's lean, pale stomach. The sight made the muscles in Remus' neck clench in anticipation of Snape thrusting up, unbalancing him further. He backed off until he was lying between Snape's splayed thighs, his neck starting to ache, and then realised there must be a better way to be doing this.

He latched his fingers into Snape's waistband and pulled, inordinately pleased when Snape lifted his hips. Edging slowly backwards off the bed, Remus pulled Snape's jeans with him, peeling them away from Snape's ankles until he was kneeling on the hard fuzzy floor between Snape's naked legs. He spared a hand to work his own jeans open as well, shoving them down, letting his cock weigh hot and heavy against his naked thigh.

It felt like a huge new step, this. He felt himself starting to think about it too much, remembering James's warning and Sirius' scorn, and all at once he was imagining them able to see him here, on his knees, mouth red with the push of Snape's cock, tasting of Snape's skin.

He froze, momentarily paralysed, and then Snape groaned softly, "What are you _doing_?" and Remus' momentum was jolted back up again; he slid his hands up Snape's calves and tugged gently, until Snape shifted his hips to the edge of the bed.

Snape pushed up on his elbows and stared at him, hair fallen in his eyes, lips parted, chest rising and falling as Remus watched.

The sight dispelled all thoughts of Sirius and James.

Moving more surely now, Remus wrapped both hands around Snape's cock and leaned close to it, breathing quickly and licking his lips. He closed his eyes and took the head of it into his mouth again, finding that the taste and shape of it was already becoming familiar. Dimly, he heard Snape take in breath, and concentrated on sucking without his teeth getting in the way. Snape's cock felt bigger, freed from its confines, or maybe he was more aroused - Remus didn't rightly know. He sucked and sucked and sucked and sucked, squeezing rhythmically with both hands, and then when that didn't seem to be doing anything he started licking it instead, holding it at the base and running his tongue slowly up and down.

He listened hard for further change in Snape's breathing, eager for reassurance. He didn't think it could get much harder, but he sucked all the way down just in case, tickling his nose with soft damp hair and breathing the musk of him right in. Still no change, although his own cock started plumping out again, because holding it like this felt - dirty. He worked his way back up the shaft, enjoying how taut and hot it felt against his tongue. And anything that felt this good to him must feel at least _reasonable_ to Snape, mustn’t it?

From this angle he could see that Snape’s hands were gripping folds in the sheets - but nothing else, infuriatingly, nothing. Remus took the head in his mouth again and closed his eyes, swishing his tongue around, unsure if Snape was even enjoying himself - although he couldn't not be, surely? Surely all men liked this.

Remus' cock stirred hard at the thought of what all men liked. He started sucking again, determinedly, bobbing his head and dropping one hand to his own cock. It was warm and not hard, but not exactly soft either, getting bigger as he imagined Snape's hands on him, touching, taking.

Remus stroked himself in steady counterpoint to the movements of his mouth— then started to feel Snape's hips lifting in time. Triumph surged hotly through him, and he redoubled his efforts and opened his eyes.

The sight awaiting him made his cock rear in his hand: Snape was still propped on his elbows but his head had fallen back, his hands clenching around fistfuls of sheets, his chest moving silently fast.

Slowly at first, then with warming certainty, Remus reached forwards. He lowered his hand over one of Snape's fists, and felt the resultant jump of Snape's cock in his mouth. He tried to suck freer, more slippery, and simultaneously pulled at Snape's hand. He lifted it onto his shoulder and then, with a sudden shiver, up into his hair.

He heard Snape hiss, and then Snape was moving and Remus was stilling in anticipation. Snape sat up and cupped Remus' face in both hands, carding his fingers through the hair behind Remus' ears, staring down with unreadable intensity. Remus stared back, Snape's cock resting between his lips, then started sucking again and shivered once more as Snape's half-closed eyes fell shut in response.

"Oh," Snape whispered, stroking Remus' face and then holding him gently, holding him still, starting to slide his hips. Remus swallowed hard and closed his eyes as well, trying to suck at the push of Snape's cock over his tongue and beginning to pant as he couldn't keep up. He wanted—He didn't know—

His hand on his own cock tightened, and he swallowed and tried to work his mouth - but he wanted - he didn't know what he wanted - but more, something, _something_ —

He let go of his cock again and put both hands on Snape's hipbones, pressing down, breaking the rhythm of it. Ignoring the jerks and jolts from Snape's hips, he was stilling him but sucking harder, breathing hard through his nose, and then sucking slowly back off Snape's cock as he made up his mind.

"Tease a man to death, why don't you," Snape muttered, and Remus heard a shade of admiration in it. He rose up, knees tingling madly, and crawled back onto the bed over Snape, pushing him flat and lowering himself over him. The shock of warm naked skin made his own cock jump against Snape's stomach again. He bit back a groan and started rubbing their cocks together, kissing the side of Snape's neck and pulling Snape's hand down to wrap around them both.

Snape made a gratifyingly low, fevered noise, and pushed up against him. His palm was against his own cock, and his fingers curled loosely around Remus'. Remus wrapped his own hand around Snape's fingers and started sliding, tightening, encouraging, and then abruptly Snape was taking over, and the rush of it made his breath shudder hard.

"Oh," he groaned, trying to close his hand around Snape's fingers, trying to slide his fist faster, tighter, _more_. Snape evaded him with low noises, rolling sideways and pulling him down, throwing a thigh over Remus' legs and stroking lighter and softer with every excruciating second. The slide of it, their cocks loosely held in the warmth of his hand, filled Remus' body with that glow again. It was infuriating, sending him wild, and he growled in frustration at the ceiling.

“Yes,” Snape hissed, and this was more like it, rolling around frenziedly and grasping at Snape's shoulders, loving the tremor in Snape's arm as he gave in all of a sudden and pumped his fist around them both.

"There—oh, fuck, fuck," Remus heard himself blurt out, and Snape was squeezing their cocks together and biting his own lower lip, eyes tightly closed, and then making priceless, urgent noises when Remus steered their mouths against each other.

In a graceless shove he rolled Remus back on top, and Remus had another errant thought of thanks that the Map couldn't see them here - which was driven away as Snape curved up beneath him, flexing against him, and brought his knees up between Remus' legs. A flurry of excitement swept up Remus' body and he spread his legs, and gasped against Snape's mouth as Snape's free hand slid down his back and then further.

"You," Snape muttered, and kissed his frantic way to Remus' ear, and bit Remus' earlobe just as the pads of his fingers slid up between Remus' thighs and started to press around.

Remus swore loudly, dragging in his breath, wheeling with the same fierce sensation he'd given himself with one curious fingertip - and Snape hadn't even pushed _in_.

Yet.

"I want you," Snape said, hot quickened breath against his ear, and Remus moaned and spread his legs further, anticipation whistling through his head in a confused, giddy swirl.

"Oh," Snape exhaled, almost accusingly, and then he was licking his fingers and trailing his fingertips up Remus' thighs. Up, unerringly, until Remus was trembling and panting and grinding with his hips, and then catching his breath as one of Snape's wet fingertips started to press again, soft but firm. It pressed and circled and pressed and then eased bluntly just inside, by which point Remus was clawing the sheets and growling against Snape's hair.

"You really haven't done this before, have you," Snape said, grinning, turning his head and catching Remus' mouth in a kiss, and that was all too much, too much sensation and Snape's fingers, fuck, his fingers pushing and his _tongue_ and his sliding hand—

Remus came again, and the sudden hot slipperiness between their stomachs seemed to catch Snape off-guard, because he groaned into Remus' mouth and stiffened all over, and started working his hand properly around his cock once more.

The fingertip that was inside Remus started to pull out, and Remus moaned and pressed back against it, managing a soft desperate, "No—you can—"

Snape made another low noise in his throat and pushed a second fingertip in against the first, and then he growled at the ragged gasp Remus gave, and threw his head back with his eyes shut and teeth bared.

"Oh," he said, and then twisted out his fingers and scratched a long slow hard ribbon up Remus' back instead, " _fuck_ ," and he was coming, more heat and wetness between their stomachs for several long, filthy seconds.

Remus went to kiss him and wound up with a mouthful of hair.

They had managed to get very, very messy. Remus tried to hold Snape until the shuddering stopped, and then Snape was shuddering more, and Remus wondered wildly if his thigh was pressed against something important, before realising that Snape was just - laughing.

Remus pushed up on his elbow, dizzily intrigued - _fascinated_ \- and Snape's eyes opened, shining at him for about a second and a half. Then he shook his head and grinned when Remus said, "What?"

"Nothing."

Remus returned the grin and nudged at Snape's side. "What?"

"Really, nothing," Snape said affably, and then, after staring at the wall behind Remus' head for a few moments, reached up with one pale hand and fondled Remus' shoulder. "Well," he amended, "not quite nothing. Because mark my words, _next time_ ," and his eyes were dark and hard as glass, and his voice was dark and soft as pitch, "I'm going to hold you to those promises you make so easily, just try and stop me."

Remus heard what he was saying and swallowed.

Snape laughed soft-incredulous at him, shaking his head again. "Honestly, you—I can't decide if you really are this textbook ingénue or if you know _exactly_ what you're doing."

It was the longest string of unprompted words Remus had ever heard from him. He realised some sort of answer was in order, and didn't quite know what to make of it, so he lifted one shoulder in a bewildered shrug. Something about that made Snape growl softly and kiss him again.

Remus opened his mouth to it, sprawling down next to him once more and pulling Snape over on top of him, drifting off into a slick-tongued and dirty kiss.

"Just as I thought," Snape said, when he pulled back, and that soft incredulous look was back in his half-closed eyes. He watched Remus for a few long seconds, then shook his head again and looked around. "Hm. We should go."

Remus looked in the direction of Snape's gaze, and saw a clock on the mantel with a cracked glass. Like the ones down in the bar, it had also stopped at seven o'clock.

A cold feeling tingled into Remus' stomach as he wondered what the real time was.

He nodded ruefully, and Snape snorted and rolled off him, wiping himself with handfuls of sheets and making a face when he saw Remus watching.

Remus laughed, shy but warm all over again, and stood up to look around for their clothes. Was there any point? He tried to remember if the Room had ever dressed them before, and couldn't. He was having trouble remembering any time before just now.

"I think we can probably just - leave?" he said.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Like this?"

Remus experienced another strange rush at the grown-up feeling of standing naked in front of another naked person, albeit one rubbing himself with a sheet. He shrugged, and ducked to pick up the tangle of their jeans, and found one dark tee shirt crumpled on the floor. "Maybe with these," he said, detaching his pair of jeans and chucking everything else to Snape, who caught the bundle with one swift hand.

As Snape dressed, Remus looked for the other tee shirt and realised it was tangled in the messy bed. He contented himself with just pulling the jeans on, kicking out a pair of shorts that had lodged in one leg.

"Hm," Snape said, appearing next to him with an odd sort of expression, and ran his hands over Remus' stomach. "No pants."

Remus ducked his head, grinning, then gave Snape a shocked look as Snape's hands smoothed down around his arse, squeezing, drawing him closer again. Snape kissed his neck, and Remus' shocked look drifted away. His hands found Snape's shoulders, warm under the tee shirt, smooth.

"Hm," he agreed, and then inhaled sharply as one of Snape's hands slipped under his waistband and thoughtfully cupped his arse. "You don't... want..."

"I _do_ want to start that again," Snape corrected him, and then smirked and broke away, and shoved his hands in his own pockets. "But we ought to leave." He looked unrepentant.

"We ought to," Remus agreed, realising despite himself that he would stay if Snape suggested it, and then Snape was nodding to himself and leading the way out, and they were leaving, after all.

  


***

  
They emerged side by side. The Hogwarts corridor was cool and fresh, even in the sudden weight of their thick robes. Remus didn't feel sticky anymore, thankfully, although part of him would have quite liked to. He definitely had underwear on again, which all parts of him were pleased about. His head was jumbled with thoughts as he realised the light was the same out here, twilight - didn't seem to have darkened at all since they went into the Room.

That pleasant surprise mixed with his afterglow, and he leaned against the wall where the door had been, hands deep in robe pockets, nonchalantly looking over Snape's shoulder. There was no one there; no one the length of the corridor, by the sound of it. He wondered if they'd get even more time if they popped back in. Or even if they didn't get frozen time, if he could just be late back to Gryffindor… as late as he'd already resigned himself to being…

Snape leaned his shoulder against the wall next to him, and pushed his hair behind his ear. His eyes were steady again, unreadable. "So, I suppose now you're going to that party."

Remus nodded. "I ought to," he said, and then he threw out, on the spur of a happy reckless moment: "Would you like to come with me?"

He immediately regretted asking. If Snape said yes—but Snape just laughed.

"No," Snape said, and now his slanted smile did seem to be reaching his eyes. "I can think of places I'd much rather go with you than there.”

Painfully relieved, Remus wet his lips. "Don't tempt me."

"Maybe we could - go somewhere else tomorrow," Snape said, the words tumbling over each other, and that was more like it, was exactly what Remus wanted.

Remus felt himself start to beam and had to look away. "I'd like that," he told the edge of a nearby tapestry; and then got impatient with himself, told himself there was _no one_ watching, and moved. Heart patting light in his chest, he stepped right into Snape's space, closing his eyes to the cool dim corridor, and kissed him.

It was worth the risk to feel Snape sucking in a surprised breath, parting his lips and pressing immediately close, and then exhaling raggedly when Remus' hand slid up around the warm back of his neck, under his hair. Remus' spine was prickling with nervousness, and his blood was pounding in his ears, and yet - it _was_ worth the risk. Here, now. The rest of the world seemed to be pulsing with the slow, light slide of their mouths, as long shivery seconds swept past; and it was Snape who drew back first, with a low skeptical noise, like Remus had told him something quite funny and completely unbelievable.

Remus opened his eyes.

"You're going to make me want to come to this blasted party at this rate," Snape growled.

Remus half-froze and then tried to shrug as if he wasn't bothered one way or the other. "You can if you—"

"No - I'd rather see you tomorrow, in one piece."

"Fine," Remus nodded, somewhat ashamed this time of the relief washing over him, but mostly just stunned and happy about the evening’s events. “Good. Tomorrow."

Snape nodded, then rubbed the back of his neck. "See you then," he said, and turned, and strode off down the corridor.

Remus watched him go, until he caught himself, and then turned on his heel and headed back to Gryffindor tower, smiling.

  


***

  
By the time he got there - via the boys' bathroom to make sure he wasn't obviously marked anywhere, which he wasn't, even on his back, which disappointed him somehow - he'd started to feel absolutely exhausted.

Noise and warmth hit him as he pushed through the painting, and the sight of the dimly-lit crowded bodies and cheerfully laughing half-strangers made his head ache. He started to weave through the crowd, then bumped into Sirius and whisked on a smile.

"Moony!" Sirius grinned, his face glowing. “Look!” He slung an arm round Remus' shoulders and turned him towards the far corner of the room. "Jake's here," he purred, and pointed, and indeed, there he was. "Just arrived, had to go to some Quidditch meeting or something. Top chap, for a Hufflepuff." He leaned closer, and murmured into Remus' ear, "Why don't you take him some Turkish Delight, hmm?"

"Right," Remus agreed, nodding and hoping Sirius couldn't smell any Muggle alcohol on his breath. "Where is it?"

Sirius pointed at James, who was dancing with Lily, one hand resting against the base of her spine, telling her something, mouth close to her ear.

Remus saw his escape. "He looks busy," he grinned, and gave Sirius a suggestive look. "I'll interrupt him later. I've just got to grab something from upstairs," he said, nodding at the door to the dorms, and Sirius nodded in blithe cheer and slid his arm down from Remus' shoulders.

"Susan," Sirius called, as Remus slipped away, "Did you say Emilia was on her way?"

Once upstairs, Remus shut out the party. They wouldn’t miss him. He made a beeline for his bed and let his mind wander back to the better, more exciting parts of the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

Whether it was the unusual alcohol or the unusual day, Remus slept fitfully. He seemed to wake up on the hour, every hour, feeling worse each time. He dreamt that his room was being ransacked, and then he dreamt that he was surrounded by laughing ghouls. He woke up with a start around dawn from an especially bad dream, in which he was waiting for Snape in the cavernous hollow of Slughorn's lab, and that Snape didn't arrive, and didn't arrive, and didn't arrive.

  


***

  
Perhaps because he was exhausted now, when he dozed off again he slept deep and late. Waking properly at last, he drew his curtains back to find the dormitory deserted and the late morning sunshine glaring in. He surveyed the room dismally - must've tripped over his satchel when he went to bed, because its contents were spilled around it, and looking at the mess of papers made his brain hurt.

Stupid Muggle hangovers. Why hadn't anyone woken him?

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he hurried over to Sirius' chest, but the Map still wasn't in it. He rubbed his eyes and made his way over to the window, but couldn't see anyone down on the grounds either. He looked at the dormitory's weekly calendar to reassure himself he hadn't _really_ overslept - no, definitely Sunday - then tried to ignore the familiar anxious tingle that accompanied the little full moon emblem glowing gently over the Monday box.

Tomorrow. Fuck.

It didn't feel like that time again already.

Remus rubbed his face with both hands and tried to shake himself out of the desire to crawl back into bed. Hungry, he decided. That was it. Starving.

He headed down to the main hall and found that all the food had been cleared away already, so he had to sneak down to the kitchens to beg some breakfast from the house elves.

Twenty minutes later, chewing on a sweet hunk of gingerbread and infinitely more awake, he headed out towards the lake to look for the others.

  


***

  
There was no one at the north shores of the lake, but shouts of laughter echoed nearby, over beyond the big tree. Remus headed back up towards the castle, rounded the slope of the grassy bank, and froze.

The sweet aftertaste of ginger turned sour in the back of his throat.

Somebody - and he knew it was Snape even before he recognised him, just _knew_ because James was holding the wand and it was James' favourite joke, and Sirius was bent nearly double with laughter - was hanging upside-down by his ankle, struggling, turning purple, trying to push his cloak out of his face.

Horror hit Remus like a cauldron of icy water, and he ran forwards; he caught Snape's livid eyes as he reached the circle of jeering Gryffindors and the world slowed down. His heart pattered in his dry mouth: he was going to have to stop Sirius and James. He was going to have to stop them and they were going to _know_ , and Sirius was going to be - the words rang loudly in his mind - _so angry_ , and—

"You DICK, Potter," Lily Evans shouted, storming towards Sirius and James from her place under the big tree, pointing, her finger quivering with rage. "You promised - put him _down_!"

"Yes—put him down, James," Remus added, finding his voice at last, and James shot him a scathing look as Snape fell to the grass in an ungainly sprawl.

"What happened to everything you told me - that you're not that sort of person any more? Everything you said last night! How _dare_ you! _When did you decide that tormenting people was funny again_?"

James' attention was all Lily's. Remus looked past them to Snape, on his feet and shaking his robes out, face red, hair straggly and uneven. He gave Remus a short, unreadable look, and stormed off towards the castle.

Remus looked at Sirius, who was standing with his arms folded, smirking and wincing comically at James' awkward apologies; he was planted between Remus and the castle, and that was that. Remus would have to walk right past him, no chance of not being noticed, questioned.

Remus, cold knots pulling tight in his stomach, stayed put.

  


***

  
"No - why do you want it?" James said, holding the Map out of Remus' reach. They were back in the dorm, just the two of them, after Lily stormed off and James sent Sirius to cajole her. James hadn't mentioned it since, had been speculating on what other import-strength confectionary might be available to those in the know, but his eyes kept darting towards the window every time a bird flew past.

"I want to see where Filch is," Remus lied. "I heard him talk about getting the statue of the witch cleaned."

James looked at the Map, then held it up, indicating the Filch dot with his wand. "There you are. Not even on that floor."

Remus tried not to look for the Snape dot, but there it was - in the dungeons, of course - and James crowed, and snatched the Map away, and grabbed Remus' face, holding his chin in a steady pinch.

"You didn't like it today, did you?" he demanded, tilting his head, fingers digging in to Remus' jaw. " _Put him down, James_... What the fuck’s happened? Does your backbone only turn up at full moon as well?"

Remus felt his face grow stormy. "Fuck off," he bit out, twisting out of James' grasp, and James had the grace to look uncomfortable, though his eyes were still dark. Remus rubbed his jaw.

James said, "I just—"

Remus rounded on him. "So what if I didn't like it?" he demanded, raising his voice. "You were being a malicious bastard, and enjoying every minute of it. What _has_ he done to you lately? Because I haven't noticed him hexing you—"

"You've spent _two minutes_ with us since Friday, and even then you weren't listening to a thing we said," James snapped. "Are you telling me he's got nothing to do with that?"

"I came to Hogsmeade," Remus said, with a great sense of the world falling away beneath his feet.

James turned pink and yelled, "You spent the _night_ with _him_ —"

"It was _homework_ ," Remus yelled back, and James barked a laugh and stabbed a finger at Remus' satchel, its contents spilled over the floor by his bed.

"No it fucking wasn't, Remus - you think we're that stupid?"

Remus drew himself up, panic making his voice crack. "It was theory," he spluttered, and then, "but even if it wasn't, why would it matter who I'm with? How can you care so much that you would go behind my ba—"

"Snape calls Lily a Mudblood," James growled, eyes flashing, "on a regular basis. He's a disgusting little bigoted toad, and you are _far_ too good for him. At least," he added evenly, and shoved the Map in his pocket, out of Remus' reach, "I thought you were."

Remus' voice went thick and chilled in his throat. "I know I am—come on, James. Can't you see I've got my reasons? I told you. I _told_ you," he said desperately, his bloodless fingers curling into fists. He swallowed hard, insistence fading into wordless shivering, unable to think of anything else to say as James gave him a disgusted look and slammed out of the room.

  


***

  
Remus found them in the shack; Sirius was nailing down some planks over a particularly vicious rent in the wall, whilst James held the wood. James looked daggers at Remus, but Sirius had a row of nails in his mouth and just nodded over his shoulder and carried on hammering.

The moon would be full tomorrow night, and for once Remus hadn't had time to start dreading its rise.

He stared at the back of Sirius' head in agony, words buzzing through his mind, and his pulse started to match the hammer's pounding.

"So," Sirius said calmly, eventually, dusting off his handiwork and turning round, wiping his mouth. The cessation of the hammer was accompanied by a redoubling of Remus' heart-rate. "You and Snivellus, I hear. James said you really didn't like being reminded of the natural order of things today." Sirius spread his hands expressively, beginning to look irritated. "Moony, what the fuck is this?"

"Nothing. He was showing me how to do some homework," Remus explained, forcing his voice to come evenly despite his pounding head. He'd been trying out the different angles in his mind all the way here, and now the words tumbled out, ready and raw. "I need his help, and I thought James was messing that up for me. You don't understand," and he geared up a notch, letting frustration slide into his voice, "I'm in real trouble with Slughorn if I don't do well - with everything. It's all right for you two. But like it or not, I've got to let Snape think I like him, or he's not going to help me get the marks."

He held his breath, lining up a second round of excuses, then released it when Sirius laughed.

"Oh thank heaven, you're only using him," Sirius said, and turned his laughter at James. " _He_ thought—but I knew you wouldn't. See," he said to James, "Moony wouldn't do something so offensively wrong as to get involved with a rat like Snape. He said as much yesterday."

"Really," James said, and Sirius rolled his eyes at Remus.

"Just because he can't get Evans to step out with him now, he wants to put a spanner in everyone's evening," he said. "He even dared suggest Emilia and I aren't destined for each other. Suggested she preferred the company of other women to mine.” He patted James on the arm. "Silly Prongs. You know I always get what I want," he said, and left.

James looked at Remus, then appeared to make a decision. He smiled wryly, not entirely nice. "I wouldn't be surprised if he turned her, actually," he said, and his eyes were full of complex shadows. "He does have a knack for getting what he wants. I should probably tell Enid to keep her head down." He cracked a grin, and it was horrible, horrible.

Remus felt the walls of the shack crowd in on him, and tried to think of something to say. "Sorry," he tried. In a weird, ugly way, he told himself, it was quite touching that his friends were so defensive of him. "I should have explained earlier. Better."

"To be honest, _I_ wouldn't care if he weren't such a pig to Lily," James said, after a moment. Remus made what he hoped was an understanding noise, and James stared at the woodwork Sirius had been doing, then scratched his ear. "Anyway. We had better get back." He glanced briefly at Remus' face. "You're not keen on this place, are you?"

"Not exactly," Remus said. He wasn't looking forwards to locking himself in tomorrow night, no.

"After you, then," James said, and Remus knew a truce when he heard one, and he ducked his head in thanks and headed back for the tunnel.

  


***

  
The corridors flashed by in jolts as Remus crept towards Slytherin, the danger of what he was doing flickering around his head like a trapped lighting bolt. He'd gone all the way back to Gryffindor with James, lost him to Lily at the door, doubled back, then run into Sirius. He'd had to shrug off something about a bad reaction to some Turkish Delight dregs, his heart in his mouth, until Sirius winced in cheerful sympathy and waved him past.

Remus tried not to think about that, and strode on. He needed to see Snape. He didn't quite dare to go straight to the Slytherin wing, but hung about in one of the corridors nearby, eventually encountering the boy Snape had been talking to yesterday at supper, the one with scarred hands and a cool, haughty expression.

Screwing up his courage, Remus walked straight up to him and asked if he'd spoken to Snape today.

The boy looked dubious, his gaze drifting down over Remus with infuriating slowness. "No," he said eventually, and then, when Remus opened his mouth again, "but I saw him heading for the potions' lab about ten minutes ago. He always goes there. I don't think he was in the mood to help people with their homework, though," he added meanly, and Remus almost snapped that that _wasn't_ why he was asking, but held his tongue.

Some Slytherins were always awful, but some - any who were Snape's friends, at least - had a fair reason to be short with him today.

  


***

  
The larger potions lab was unlocked but empty. The smaller one was locked.

Remus swallowed, fabricating a story in case it was Slughorn in there, or someone else, and rapped on the door. No answer, which empowered him; he carried on until his knuckles were red and stinging.

Then put his hands over his face and growled a few choice curses into his fingers. If only he'd shouted at James. If only he'd not hesitated. If only.

The door clicked and opened a fragment, and Snape's dark eyes peered at him from the other side.

"I'm sorry," Remus blurted, and the words hung there for a second, and then the door slammed shut again. Remus slapped his palms hard on the door, exasperated. "Let me in," he yelled, almost uncaring if people were within hearing distance, and then he realised that Snape was even less likely to let him in if there were a crowd, and looked around guiltily.

No one.

He rubbed his face with his hands and looked at the bottom of the door, wondering if there was a space he could slide a letter under.

Not really.

He knocked again.

Nothing.

He sat down against the opposite wall, drawing his knees up and resting his elbows on them, and waited.

And waited.

Half an hour later, Snape opened the door again.

  


***

  
He looked momentarily surprised to see him, which stung, and he was pushing the door shut again by the time Remus jumped to his feet.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't believe it, it was like a nightmare," Remus babbled, planting his hand on the door to keep it open, and Snape's face shuttered. "I mean it," Remus insisted, louder.

Snape yanked the door open so that Remus stumbled into the room, then pushed it briskly shut behind him.

The _clunk_ of the door reverberated, setting Remus' teeth on edge. The room seemed larger than usual, colder. Cavernous. A desk in the front row was piled with dark-bound books and scrolls. All the other desks were empty.

Feeling painfully intrusive, staring at the floor, Remus muttered, "I'm really sorry." It was, after all, what he'd come here to say. It didn't sound like much now.

When Snape didn't respond, Remus glanced up nervously. Snape's eyes were dark with disdain.

Remus swallowed, then said, "Look here, I wasn't behind it - you have to believe me. Honestly. I had no idea—"

Snape walked past him, giving Remus his shoulder and stalking back to the laden desk.

Remus bit the inside of his cheek. "Won't you even listen to me?" he tried. He could hear that his voice was getting more urgent, more whining, but couldn't stop it. Snape was closing the old books carefully, his pale hands making short controlled movements. The Snape who'd chuckled softly with him was nowhere to be seen. "I just want to say—"

"Say _nothing_ ," Snape said, without looking, and started rolling up scrolls. "Some of us are trying to forget."

Remus flinched, adrenaline spiking through him. "But it wasn't me," he said, needing Snape to know that. "I knew _nothing_ about it. If I'd known, I would have," momentarily he fought for words, "stopped them, I wouldn't have let them, I wouldn’t.”

Snape stilled, and Remus hurried over to him, encouraged. He remembered Snape appearing next to him when he was standing topless in jeans, very interested in the fact that he didn't have any pants on, and he _knew_ that Snape was inside this cold Snape _somewhere_.

"I just wanted to tell you that," he said, and put a hand on Snape's elbow.

Snape whirled round, shoving the desk and sending the pile of books to the floor with a sickening crunch, snarling into Remus' face: "What are you doing? What part of trying to forget is too fucking complicated for you? What on earth makes you think I want to see you here?"

"I—"

"—And how _dare_ you come in here telling me you'd have stopped them if you'd known," Snape spat, almost as an afterthought, before Remus had quite caught his breath to reply. His voice was thick, clipped with fury. "You'd do anything Black asked, soon as look at you."

"That's not true," Remus said, finding his voice somewhere, far away. "And I _would_ have stopped them—"

" _Lily Evans stopped them_ ," Snape hissed, "and you—you—"

It was the first time Remus had seen Snape speechless, and the silence rang hideously between them, and then Snape turned on his heel and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

The _clunk_ of the door reverberated, and died away, and Remus stared straight ahead and breathed hard, and wanted to howl.

  


***

  
It wasn't like Snape to leave his books, Remus told himself, pacing and rubbing his fingers raw against each other. He darted nervous glances at the books askew on the cracked wooden floorboards, their old leather jackets bent ugly and uncomfortable. He'd be back for them. Remus would just have to wait.

He couldn't quite bring himself to move anything, to do anything that might feel complicit in being here.

An angular brass key was sticking out of the lock of the classroom door, glinting dully. Remus thought about locking himself in, so that no one could discover him here. Then he imagined Snape pushing against the locked door and presuming—something. And leaving.

He left it untouched.

He paced.

Presently, there was a knock at the door, and he leapt to answer it and then swallowed hard.

It was James.

Remus opened the door enough for him to see the classroom was deserted - of course, he'd have found him with the Map, so there was no need - but not enough to see the books on the floor, or the desk shoved out of its row.

"Spot of Quidditch practice?" James said, hopefully tilting a pair of broomsticks. There was more colour in his cheeks than usual.

It was as close as James would come to an apology, Remus knew. He nodded. "I was just. Slughorn," he said, because the last thing he needed was to bring the truth into it, and James rolled his eyes, and drew him out into the corridor with a blasé hand.

“Honestly Moony, I can get you a memory charm if you're doing that badly. It's too close to Christmas to be going grey over little things like Potions. Or if you don't like memory charms, there's this silver pen, it lets you store up to a hundred recipes on the back of your hand..."

"Silver's not so good to me," Remus said, pulling the door shut behind him.

James laughed and handed him a broomstick - a nice one, Remus vaguely knew, so James really must be making an effort here - and led him away.

  


***

  
"Lily said you were just trying to do the right thing," James said, as he was buttoning the collar to his uniform, looking diffident. Ah, Remus thought. That was why James was being so friendly. "Do you want to start with the ball?"

Remus was sitting gingerly on his broomstick. His genitals didn't welcome the pressure, and welcomed even less the thought of the high arching swoops that James liked to drive him through. "I'm just going to do a few low circuits to warm up," he said.

James shrugged and hopped onto his own broomstick. "Fine. See you up there."

Remus watched him leap into the air, driving straight up with his legs gracefully rigid, and then caught sight of a soaring owl a few feet away from where James was streaking up—an owl making right for Remus.

Remus sat up straighter, and tried not to get his hopes up as the owl’s foot thrust into his face, a note tied on. He couldn't quite contain a smile, though, as he unrolled it and recognised Snape's cramped penmanship. Then he frowned. The note said: _If you insist. I'll be in the lab. But please make it a little later, say four o’clock. I’m working._

Remus reread the note, trying to remember the last words he'd exchanged with Snape, if they could have been construed as insisting, well, _anything_.

The owl leapt into the air in a rush of dusty feathers, making him blink and realise he was standing here in broad daylight. He pocketed the note, looking around nervously. James was looping and diving, high above the grass, a red blur in a gold shimmer.

The wording of the note would be strange, Remus felt, even if he had said something insistent. Still, he reasoned, it was a lot better than he'd expected. He hadn't expected a note at all. He'd half expected an embarrassing public poisoning.

Remus looked at the castle clock tower, and realised he had a little under two hours to make his excuses. If he flew exuberantly now, perhaps James would understand later. He kicked off the ground and started circling, schooling his expression in the hope of appearing as if there were nowhere he’d rather be.

  


***

  
Later, whilst James was a distant speck in the sky, trying to best his own height record, Remus scribbled out a note in reply and tied it onto the foot of a passing pigeon. The pigeon looked amazed, then bent as obediently as an owl under the concentrated blast of correspondence magic that Remus sent its way.

 _I'll be there._

  


***

  
"Well, we made a good go of it," James said, at three-fifty-five, when Remus had been rubbing his thigh and wincing for a good ten minutes. "You should do some stretches, or something."

"I will—in the excessively long hot shower I'm about to have.”

James laughed. "Fine. But come back out if you feel better," he said, and his eyes were somehow shrewd. "Even if it's just to watch." Now he almost sounded imploring.

Remus thought it was probably his own guilty conscience. "I will, if I feel better," he said, nodding. “Thanks. This was fun."

"Yeah," James said. Then he said swiftly, "Right, well, see you later," and slipped back onto his broom with a brief, regretful smile. He had clearly liked messing about in the air together. He kicked off the ground with full force, and went immediately high.

"See you," Remus echoed, and waved as he backed away.

He started slowly, but the twinges of guilt faded as he headed in towards the potions lab, and he picked up his pace as soon as he was satisfied that James wasn’t watching.

  


***

  
Snape was at his desk, reading, looking to have been there all afternoon, although the pile of scrolls covered in cramped notes hadn't grown at all, and he hadn't even picked all the books up off the floor. Remus tried not to look at them, but it was difficult; they were almost obscene, so wholly out of place, their pages splayed open unevenly, the spines unnaturally cracked back on themselves.

"Hullo," Remus said, and Snape glanced up. He was using a pencil, not a quill, and he rolled it in his fingers rather than putting it down.

“Lupin.”

At a loss, Remus said, "Am I interrupting?" erring on the side of politeness.

"No more than usual," Snape said, but he sighed and closed the book, and looked dourly across at him. "What was so important it couldn't wait until I finished looking at Lestrange's coursework?"

Something wasn't quite right about this, but Remus didn't have the head on him to think about it here. "I just wanted to check if you’d—“ Calmed down? Forgotten? “—if you felt like a beer," Remus improvised.

Snape raised his eyebrows, but just said, "You'd have to bring it here—I really have to finish this. It's due tomorrow."

"Fine," Remus nodded, and accio'd two of the stash of bottles stowed under Sirius' bed from the party, the ones that hadn't been drunk because they were too Muggle, too dull.

Snape didn't look much more interested as the bottles appeared at Remus' feet, but at least he was looking at all.

"It's not bitter," Remus said, bending to pick them up, handing one over, "but you might like it."

It felt like years since they'd sat in the pub and made awkward attempts at conversation, pressing their ankles together under the table.

"Cheers," Snape said, without warmth. He stood to line two coins up on the edge of the desk, then brought the bottle down hard, causing its top to fly off with a clink. He handed the bottle back to Remus in exchange for the second one, and Remus caught the foam that rose in his mouth, watching as Snape repeated the procedure and then pocketed the coins again.

"Cheers," Remus said, swallowing.

They drank.

Well, Remus drank. Snape took a couple of mouthfuls and then leaned against his desk, crossing one ankle over the other. He was watching Remus with a look like a bored snake.

Remus tried out several conversations in his head, and found them all wanting. He could ask if Snape was still angry, but he probably was. He could ask if Snape wanted to kiss him, but he probably didn't. He could ask what Snape wanted from him, but Snape would probably say something smart and stinging, or dismiss him outright. Or he could keep drinking.

Snape watched skeptically as Remus emptied half the bottle down his throat, and then said, "Much as I enjoy flouting school rules for the sake of it," with a tilt of his own bottle, mostly full, "may I ask what it is that you're here for, again?"

Remus hesitated.

"Hmm. Maybe you want your homework doing?" Snape suggested, indicating the scrolls in front of him.

Remus shook his head.

"You've been struck mute?" Snape said, feigning concern, and then - when Remus took breath to prove that he wasn't mute, no, just painfully nervous of saying the wrong thing - continued, "No, I didn't think I was that lucky. What do you want, then? A shoulder to cry on?"

Remus twisted his mouth. "No..."

Snape uncrossed his ankles and tilted his head. "A good hard fuck?"

Remus looked sharply over his shoulder, his mouth going dry, but the door was shut, and Snape's words couldn't have carried. Snape's eyes were mean when he looked back, his mouth in a loose sly smile; a bored snake toying with a mouse.

Remus swallowed, and tried to gauge whether Snape was being genuinely cruel or just whimsical, or even, a remote possibility, sincere.

"Is that what you want?" Remus tried, leaning himself gingerly on the edge of an empty desk and putting his beer bottle down next to him.

Snape stared at him for a moment, then tilted his head back in exasperation. "Do I want to fuck you?" he asked the ceiling, tapping his pencil thoughtfully against the desk, then looked back at Remus with unfriendly eyes. "Not particularly. I'm not sure how fun it would be, given the circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

Snape's voice was flat: "The ones where I don't trust your motives, or know what you want, or understand why the fuck you're here."

He'd been expecting something bigger than that, something far more unpleasant, but it still felt somewhat like the time when James had accidentally socked a bludger into Remus' chest.

Remus rubbed his hands over his face and decided he needed to start again. "I've done this all wrong," he said dully, and pressed his palms together, steepling his fingers. "I'm sorry. It shouldn't have been Lily that stopped them—it should have been me."

Snape drank his beer. "That answers precisely none of my questions," he said.

Remus glared at him, dropping his hands to the desk. "What do you want to know? I'm sorry, and I. I like you." Saying it was somehow grossly embarrassing. He struggled. "Does it have to be more complicated than that?"

"Apparently," Snape said. “I thought it was just—convenient. But bringing Potter and Black into it puts paid to that, wouldn’t you agree?”

Remus felt like his voice was coming from very far away. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So why bother?” His voice, now, felt measuredly cruel.

“I didn’t mean to bring them into it,” Remus said. He tried to think of something clever, something defusing, and he couldn't. He pressed his lips together, tried to force his voice into neutral. "I'm not them."

"No," Snape said, and looked away. After a moment, he said in his normal voice, “No. Which is why you're in here grovelling, and Potter and Black are somewhere else, laughing with each other and their minions and not caring two figs for anyone but themselves."

He pushed his hair behind his ear and sat down moodily on the desk next to Remus. "This is a mess, though," he added. "Damned if we do, and damned if we don't."

Remus tingled with the nearness of him. "If we do... what?" he said.

Snape paused for a moment and then looked at him sardonically, with a hint of an amazed smile. "Damned if we tell them the truth," he said, as if it were obvious, and his smile turned knowing. "But that's not what you were thinking, is it?"

For a moment, the air was as warm between them as ever it had been.

Remus raised one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug, and willed Snape to kiss him.

Snape glanced at his mouth, then up, then at his mouth again—and then stood up and raked a hand through his hair. "But that's not the point," he said, and his voice was flat and irritable again. "You being all damned eyes and mouth with me - that's not what the Gryffindors are hearing about."

"Of course it isn't," Remus said, his eyes narrowing. It felt like he was getting closer to the meat of the matter. "But you're not telling anyone either. Don't tell me you'd rather all _your_ House knew," he added, and Snape's eyes flashed.

"I'd rather they _didn't_ know."

"And?" Remus demanded, throwing his hands out, nearly knocking over his beer. "I've not told anyone—any of this."

"And precisely what have you been telling people?”

Remus inhaled to answer, and then stopped, at a loss. Snape couldn’t mean…

Snape stabbed a finger at him. "Because _that_ is what's going around."

Remus winced. "The stuff about failing Potions," he said, and in a strange way the guilty realisation was tempered with delight. That was what Snape was cross about? A matter of pride, of what people thought of him? _That_ was within the realm of the negotiable.

"Everybody knows you're failing Potions," Snape said shortly. "It's the part about tricking me into helping you that's so annoying."

Remus latched onto that. "You're annoyed, then?" he said, because that was so much better than wrathful, or disgusted, or incensed.

Snape screwed his eyes up, and looked over at the wall. "I can't say I'm overjoyed that your manipulation of me is the talk of the corridors this afternoon, no." He glanced at Remus, and scowled. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," Remus said. _All eyes and mouth_ , he thought, and sucked his lower lip, pensively, while choosing his words. "But, it's still easier if people believe that than hear the truth, isn't it?"

Snape glared at him. "Easier for you, perhaps. Do you know how many people will try it if they think you've succeeded?"

Remus blinked, and considered that for the first time. "Well... If... Look here, don't tell me you aren't very good at turning people down," he stammered, and then realised he was being sidetracked, and shook his head. "But ultimately," he pressed, looking askance at Snape, "them thinking that, rather than knowing what's really going on—it's easier."

Snape didn't look pleased. "Especially for you."

Remus moved closer. "In which case," he said, lowering his voice, certainty and momentum building brightly, "I apologise for damaging your reputation, and I'll make it up to you, if you'll let me. Come on," he added, firmer, when Snape acquiesced to Remus' hand on his shoulder but didn't show any other particular signs of relenting.

"You will, will you," Snape said.

And there was one more possibility, Remus thought, moving his arms around Snape and feeling the hesitation running through him like electricity. But it was absurd; quite absurd. "I want to make it up to you," he said, close to Snape's ear, and then, making his voice quiet but matter-of-fact, "and—you know it's absurd, right? What they're saying?"

He listened for Snape's scornful agreement, and then exhaled silently when it wasn't forthcoming.

"But," he said, trying to keep the amazement out of his voice, "I—I don't—I've never even _suggested_ you give me any help."

"Perhaps you're biding your time."

And there it was. And there was, Remus thought wildly, only one way to get rid of that doubt: by annihilation. He licked his lips nervously, glad Snape couldn't see. "By asking you fuck me?" he said softly, and then rushing on - incredulous at hearing himself even though he'd wanted it, how he _wanted_ it - he joked, "Surely you realise even I'm not that worried about grades."

Heat swept through him as Snape's hands closed on his waist, as Snape angled back for painfully slow seconds to look suspicious-hungry into his face.

Then Snape said gruffly, almost glaring, “You’d better not be that worried.”

The breath Remus took to reply was knocked out of him as Snape kissed his mouth roughly. Remus surged against him as Snape grabbed him harder, scratching at his robes, forcing them off his shoulders as if they were in a fight to be the most closely pressed against the other's skin. It was a fight he intended to win.

"I'm not," Remus said, and then scant minutes later, his bare shoulder blades crushed against the hard wood floor, realising that it was going to happen here - amongst the broken-backed textbooks and ancient stains of the potions lab, Snape's mouth hot on his throat as his hand moved up Remus' thigh - he heard Snape mutter, "I am never helping you with your NEWTs, any NEWTs. Ever."

Remus laughed and spread his legs for Snape's fingers and said, "No," and then, "Yes—oh, yes."

Snape had got something slippery from some deep pocket, and he'd rolled Remus over onto his back on the spread of his own robes, and he'd pushed the crumple of Remus' discarded trousers under his hips, tilting them determinedly, until Remus' legs had spread for him of their own accord.

Snape had kissed his throat down to his collarbone, then right up to his ear. He'd reached down with his other hand and eased it behind Remus' knee, lifting until Remus' left leg was hooked over Snape's right shoulder. And then he'd kissed his mouth so fiercely that Remus had gasped and melted against him, his leg slithering back to the floor, and Snape had made an amused noise and that was when the slippery stuff had appeared.

Remus mumbled encouragement, watching Snape through mostly-shut eyes and lifting his hips as Snape's hands moved over him, squeezing and stroking and running his fingertips over Remus' balls. Remus gasped at the last, turning his head from side to side, and Snape made that amused noise again and kissed right up to Remus' ear.

"Did you mean what you said?" he whispered, and Remus nodded and swallowed, his mouth not wet enough to speak. "Good," Snape said, and started to ease his fingers inside.

Not one—he wasn't sure how many. _Four?_ Remus thought wildly, almost choking with the sensation of it, but he honestly had no idea, it could be two, he just knew they were slippery and wide. As they pushed in, the piercing heat of it made his head spin, and he thrust his cock upwards against unforgiving space and made low, thoughtless noises. Snape was panting against his throat, gradually deepening the push, twisting his fingers in slow, deliberate spirals that made Remus lift his knees and groan and thrash.

"Oh," he hissed, and Snape made a rough sound and dragged his teeth over the tendons in Remus' throat; and then he was easing his fingers out and sliding down on top of him, catching Remus' cock between their stomachs in a glorious firm heat. The head of his cock slipped between Remus' thighs, as Snape supported himself on his hands, either side of Remus' shoulders, and began to blindly press.

Remus groaned harder, imagining the shape of Snape's cock moving against his arse, trying to help by rocking hard against him, aching to have it pushing along the furiously tingling path Snape's fingers had left.

Snape's hips increased the pressure and then faltered as the head of Snape's cock slid up against Remus' balls. Remus breathed hard through his teeth, trying to crook his hips just right, then inhaled sharply as Snape reached down with one hand and adjusted Remus' hips on the heaped fabric until they were tilted _just so_. He tugged Remus' ankle back up onto his shoulder, tipping Remus until he was spread underneath him, unbalanced but for Snape's hold of him, unable to get a purchase on the smooth floor.

Snape's hand squeezed his knee and then kept moving, smoothing back down Remus' leg and dipping two fingers briefly inside him again. That casual breach made him shudder, his cock pulsing hard between their stomachs, and then Snape was shifting to hold his own cock right there, pressing against his hole, _exactly_ there.

As Remus drew in short, shaking breaths, there was that piercing heat again, then a tight yielding sensation. It shone through Remus' overheated nerves and made his voice collect in his throat; Snape was going for it, was _doing_ it, was easing the head of his cock into Remus' body with a slow, firm hand.

Remus gasped, and gasped, and gasped. His heel jerked behind Snape's shoulder, and his other leg slid up to relieve the twist of him, serving only to spread himself further open against Snape's cock. Snape made another of those amused noises, and pushed a bit, then leaned harder down on Remus, sliding his hand back up to support himself, both palms by Remus' shoulders, the muscles in his pale shoulders bunched and trembling. Remus made low, insistent noises in his throat, stretched around that one tight point, the whole world collapsing down to that sensational burn. Part of his brain still couldn't picture it; the rest was obsessively detailing every slick stretched line.

Snape made the faintest noise and kissed his ear and nudged his hips, and Remus groaned, curling his spine up off the hard floor and shaking as the piercing heat blurred into something blunter, sharper. Remus breathed hasty and loud through his teeth, and it was hurting, yes, hurting the more Snape pushed—and yet the more Snape pushed—it felt so fucking _good_.

" _Oh,_ " he heard himself moan, and Snape's mouth feathered hotter against his ear, and then Snape stilled with obvious effort and drew his head back a bit, looking Remus in the face. His eyes were half-shut and gleaming, and his mouth was red, and his hair was sticking to his face in sweaty dark spikes.

Through gritted teeth, his voice threaded with the faintest tremor, he said, "Tell me if you want me to stop."

His vision full of dark and bright patches, his legs trapped between their chests, Remus stared up at Snape and bared his teeth and _growled_ , "Don't stop now."

"No," Snape agreed, and seemed more certain of himself once more.

He pushed again, and Remus hissed—and this time Snape smirked at him, and reached for his hand.

"I am barely," he said, ducking and licking Remus' neck, his voice bolder now, almost smug, "even," pulling Remus' hand down their bodies and lifting his hip, pushing Remus' fingertips down against the tight slippery stretch in which the head of Snape's cock was buried, " _touching_ you."

Remus heard himself make a strangled noise, almost beside himself with sensation. He couldn't quite cope with the images his fingertips were sending, and felt like he might come just from that thought of having a thick cock sliding into him, his body reluctantly allowing it, taking it under duress.

Remus’ fingers felt down the wide, slick length of Snape's cock still not inside him, the shape of it creating a dark, shatteringly exciting expectation. His eyes fell closed, and he had to force them back open.

"Touch me then," he muttered, gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to just come.

Breathing hard, Snape raised his eyebrows and let a fraction more of his weight go into his hips.

Remus' eyes nearly rolled up in his head.

"That feels good," Snape breathed, and Remus thought it was a statement and then realised it was a question. He nodded, and then nodded harder when Snape pressed again—and then Snape pressed a little harder still.

"Fuck," Remus muttered, his muscles tightening involuntarily, and then there was a slow, unbearable, inexorable stretch as Snape slid in _anyway_. The full length of his cock, pushing in slow but relentless, slick and solid, until Remus was shaking and growling with it, clawing at Snape's sides and hating—loving— _relishing_ the control he didn't have.

“That feels good,” Snape repeated, his breath catching, and forced the last inch inside with a sharp shove—which was enough to push Remus over, that blazing sweet jolt of friction, and he came just like that, groaning against Snape’s neck and grating his head back against the floor.

In the midst of Remus’ orgasm, Snape's hips sank against his arse for the first time, his cock buried right in as Remus spasmed against him. Remus realised distantly that he could feel Snape's heart hammering through his chest, against the confines of his own knees, and that Snape was holding almost completely still. Not absolutely, though: his hips were shifting a little, sliding his cock inside Remus in small, possibly involuntary movements.

It occurred to Remus that Snape was fucking him, really _fucking him_ , and with a start he was back in his own body.

He moaned, softly at first and then harder at the feel of it, the slow and then less-slow pulsing of Snape's hips, as if at last Snape had decided he was allowed.

"Oh," Remus gasped, as Snape's cock rubbed over something full of new taut sensation, and Snape laughed, short and breathless, and did it again.

Remus gasped again, the sparks of that mixing with recent pleasure-pain and old, hard longing, his head turning from side to side in blind response to Snape's thrusts. "Oh, fuck—"

"Fuck," he heard Snape chiming in against him, panting across his ear and then nuzzling it, and Remus was entering a new sort of consciousness, dizzy and thrumming and luxuriant, borderline delirious, with enough wits floating about him to start cataloguing things to remember later. Snape's skin under Remus' nails; the heat of his roaming hands. His eyes: Snape kept focusing and unfocusing on Remus' face, as Remus lay beneath him with his knees around his ears and gazed up, gritted teeth and melting body, clutching at Snape's shoulders and matching his gasps.

He gave a shy thrust of his own, trying to meet the push of Snape's hips, building up a rhythm until Snape _felt_ him do that—and grinned.

"On your front," he said, and it was another of his statement-questions.

Remus would have agreed to almost anything, right then. He nodded, and then caught his breath in new excitement as Snape eased out of him and unceremoniously flipped him over. In his post-coital daze it felt almost smooth, to be pressed face-down and sticky onto his own bunched robes, as Snape settled on top of him and nudged the head of his cock back into his arse.

And this was—dirty, Remus felt, folding one arm under his forehead and stuffing fabric into his mouth, biting down as Snape pushed himself fully in with one firm, deliberate slide. This was dirty, raw, fantasy sex; this was Snape fucking him from behind. Snape's chest settled against his back, his knees angling Remus' thighs apart, and Remus grunted into the folds of his robes, which seemed to make Snape all the more hard.

“Yes,” Snape muttered, nuzzling the back of Remus' neck and starting to move. Long swift strokes that made Remus gasp and flinch, the sensation of it cutting through his afterglow, almost too much but fuck, so right, so _right_. Fuck, he _loved_ this. He spread his legs, welcoming the pounding against his arse, the deep shoves of his cock, the smack of Snape’s hips picking up speed.

“Yes, you—that’s what you—” Snape bit off, and Remus nodded hard, his eyes squeezed tight.

“Yes,” he growled, through the robes, “fuck, _yes_ ,” and he felt Snape letting himself go at last, starting to slam his hips in short selfish jolts.

Remus flexed back against him and let his voice carry, as Snape fucked him like that in a jagged crescendo before pushing in hard, grinding his hips, and biting down on the back of Remus' neck as he came.

Remus was panting almost as hard as Snape was, and the sharp pain pulled a growl from him - but he didn't protest, because ten seconds later Snape was sinking down on top of him, sprawling out and nuzzling the back of his neck, and Remus couldn't find it in him to object. Even though his entire body felt bruised and raw, he felt totally carefree. He’d had sex, proper sex, and if Sirius walked in on them now he couldn’t have managed anything more apologetic than a shrug and a smile.

He even waited until Snape's weight was really starting to interfere with his breathing before he started, cautiously, to squirm.

"Mm," Snape breathed, into Remus' hair, and then shifted, easing wet and slick out of him, and settling down on his side.

"Mm," Remus agreed, from the back of his throat. He couldn’t yet properly feel his legs, let alone make words. He was already beginning to re-live that moment when Snape had come inside him, when for a few shaky breaths Snape had let everything else go. Remus had liked that, he thought, maybe more than when he’d come himself.

Well, almost.

Fuck, what a wonderful afternoon.

“We—“ he started, without opening his eyes; nothing more than a mumble.

“Sh,” Snape said. Remus felt Snape's hand on his shoulder, pressing; as he relaxed, Snape rolled him onto his side and shuffled closer. Snape’s lips brushed against his, kissing him when Remus hummed in assent, breathing lightly against his open mouth.

For a few seconds, Remus wanted to lie there, on their sides, kissing, hands leisurely wandering, for the rest of the evening.

But—"We should go,” he said, as an annoying sensible part of his brain un-clouded, “before, hm."

"Before anyone notices," Snape murmured, agreeably enough. He made no move to get up.

The annoying sensible part of Remus’ brain thought it was probably a bit late for nobody to notice, but he respected the sentiment. "Right," he said, nodding.

Summoning all his strength, he started to stand up. It was an effort to sit up, and still more to stand, and besides, portions of his anatomy objected to that. He winced, then gave Snape a mock glare when Snape noticed and grinned unrepentantly.

After a moment, Remus grinned back. He was getting more used to standing naked in front of someone, he realised, and immediately felt self-conscious. Snape was rummaging around in their discarded clothes for his wand, though, that sharp gaze thankfully averted. When he looked back, it was to cast a spell that cleaned them up, which - whilst it made Remus raise his eyebrows and wonder exactly where Snape learnt that sort of thing - was certainly useful.

Remus dressed feeling a great deal cleaner, tingling in all sorts of interesting places, and did his own bit of showing off by banishing the beer bottles to wait under his bed. Snape was fixing the last few buttons on his robe; he nodded, which Remus decided was approval, then knelt and turned his attention to picking the books off the floor.

"You should probably go,” Snape said, over his shoulder, when Remus bent to help.

"I probably should," Remus said. "Are you going to stay here?"

Snape crooked a smile at him. "I need to finish this scroll tonight."

"Right," Remus said, nodding quickly. He searched for something to say that wasn't _This afternoon may have changed my life forever._ "I've got homework as well."

"You will arouse less suspicion if you do it elsewhere," Snape said. Then he shot Remus a mischievous look and added, "You will arouse less all round."

The tingling under Remus' skin began afresh. He felt like an addict, already craving the next hit before the effects of the last had fully dispersed. He tried to concentrate on what Snape was really saying. “As for that, the homework,” Remus said, “um - and what I've been saying - what would you rather I told them?"

Snape's glance suggested that Remus was a tolerably attractive but extremely stupid individual. "Tell them you're paying me. That's what everyone else does. Although I'll thank you to work a bit harder on it," Snape added, that gleam rising in his eyes again, "if people think you're buying your results from me."

"Right," Remus nodded, trying not to wonder if it was Snape's feelings or his business success that Remus had been trampling over.

"By the way," Snape said, his hands neatening the piles of books on the desk, looking as if he was only vaguely aware that Remus was still in the room, "there's a place we could stay, if you want. I can make sure it's free."

"Tonight?" Remus said hopefully, and Snape gave him another of those sharp, amused glances.

“Tomorrow,” he corrected, rising to his feet again. He was closer than Remus had expected.

“Tomorrow, of course," Remus nodded, his cheeks firing up. They were back on the same page. "Great."

"Great," Snape said softly, and slid his hands up Remus' arms and kissed him, and then it dawned on Remus with an icy snap that tomorrow night the moon was full.

"Um, actually," he said, breaking the kiss in dismay, "I can't."

Something slammed down in Snape's eyes. "You can't?"

“Tomorrow,” Remus said. It stung that Snape didn't look at all surprised. Snape's hands had hardened on his arms; now Snape let go of him altogether. "I'd like to," Remus said, trying to undo the damage, "but I've—already got plans. Non-negotiable ones. I, I would if I could, I promise," he added, wishing for a time-turner like never before.

"Fair enough," Snape said, neutrally.

"I'm sorry," Remus said.

Snape glanced at the table of books. "It's fine."

"I'd—Can you do another day?"

"I said, it's fine," Snape said, and sat down at the table again.

Remus swallowed. “Wednesday’s better for me," he said, watching Snape's profile, and saw the guarded tightness of it flicker. He firmed his voice. “Are you free on Wednesday?”

Snape looked sullenly at him.

"Or another day?" Remus said, carded a hopeful finger over Snape's shoulder. "I—"

"Fine, Wednesday,” Snape said, shrugging off his finger.

Relief swooped through Remus' stomach, and he ducked down and kissed Snape's cheek, then wound up kneeling on the hard floor next to him when Snape turned his head sharply and kissed him back.

Remus spread both hands over the back of Snape's head and tried to communicate, through willing kisses, that he really would have been there tomorrow if he possibly could. And would definitely be there on Wednesday. Without fail. Wherever Snape wanted. Which reminded him—"Where do you want me?"

"Here," Snape said roughly, and then, breaking off and giving him that heavy-lidded smile, a rueful crook to it, said, "You mean Wednesday.”

Remus nodded, warm all over.

"You can meet me by the Room of Requirement," Snape said. Remus realised he must have done his homework on it, because Remus had never called it by name. “And make sure those friends of yours think you'll be busy in the library. All night."

Remus' eyes widened. "I will," he promised. "Just tell me what time."

"Call it eight," Snape said, his gaze on Remus' mouth.

"I'll be there at eight," Remus said, wanting to insist, make it a promise. He nudged in to kiss him again, making it slow, ignoring the part of his brain that was now screeching that he really, _really_ had to go.

“Wednesday,” Snape agreed, after moment, and gave him a soft sort of look. His hands were in Remus' hair, palms against the back of Remus' neck. "That's ages."

"Yes," Remus said, swallowing. Another lifetime, the other side of a transformation that he absolutely could not mention. "But I—"

"You have to go," Snape said firmly, and inclined his head. His peered at Remus through his lashes, then scratched his fingertips suggestively slow down the back of Remus’ neck before lowering his fists into his lap. "So go, before I forcibly delay you."

Dry-mouthed and overheated yet again, Remus went.


	4. Chapter 4

Creeping back through the Gryffindor painting, Remus found James and Sirius lounging on the sofa by the fire, talking with their heads together. He swallowed as they looked up, and James' eyes narrowed.

Sirius gave him a slow once-over. "Feeling better?" he asked, smirking.

Remus frowned. "What?"

"Earlier. You said you were _poorly_. Too many intoxicating substances," Sirius drawled, and Remus tried to brace himself.

"I'm feeling better."

"You still look sick," James said.

Sirius gave James a disparaging look. "Now, that's not nice."

"Did you have fun with Snivellus? _Again_?" James asked Remus, archly.

Remus swallowed and tried not to look like he'd had sex this afternoon. “Yes,” he said, “at this rate I might actually pass Potions without a miracle this term."

James scoffed, but Sirius didn't look too bothered.

"I'll believe that when I see it," Sirius laughed. "He's good, but he's not that good."

It was the first time Remus had ever heard something resembling a compliment to Snape come out of Sirius' mouth. He gaped, and heard himself say, "You've changed your tune."

"About the greasy one? Why shouldn't I? After all, he's your _lover_ now, I hear.”

Sirius' eyes were wild with good humour, and Remus realised that was his cue to groan and make noises of disgust. Without a second thought, he was doing so. "Please! Not you as _well_."

Sirius laughed hard at that, and then chuckled, and then said weakly, "Hah, what an idea. So, have you got any plans for later?"

Remus shrugged, relieved. "Not really."

"Don't tell me you're staying in," James said sharply, as Remus dropped his bag onto the rug in front of the fire and chafed his hands against his upper arms.

Remus wilfully misunderstood. "'Course I'm staying in. I've worked hard enough today, I don't want to go back to the library any time soon. Or—are you two going down later?" he added, cautiously.

"Nah," Sirius said, kicking his ankles out and smiling lazily up at Remus, a deep mad glint in his eye like he had finally worked how to wipe the Slytherin wing off the map forever. “We’re going for a wander after supper. You should come and get some fresh air, blow out all those—“ and he paused delicately “—cobwebs.”

The last thing Remus wanted to do after supper was go sneaking off after curfew with Sirius and James. He was aching all over, his skin was crawling with the only barely gibbous moon, and he was craving, if not a long deep soak in the prefects' bathroom, then at least a long hot shower, the hotter the better.

James saw his expression. "Of course," he said, his voice flat, "if you don't come you could get some more homework done."

Remus thought about the pile of homework he genuinely needed to do, the piles of papers he'd abandoned in favour of chasing Snape all around the school, and stifled a sigh. "I'm really quite tired."

  


***

  
Sunday night supper always had an air of wistfulness to it, and this one ought to have felt positively wretched: sat at the end of their table, next to Peter, Sirius and James laughing together over something they weren't bothering to tell Remus about— but Remus' position gave him a direct view of Snape sitting with his pale scarred friend on the Slytherin table, discussing something in quiet detail whilst Lestrange and the others drawled noisily to each other; and sitting with Peter gave him a good excuse not to talk; and being ignored by Sirius and James left him free to daydream about taking Snape up to the Gryffindor Common Room. He’d drag him down on the rug in front of the fireplace, take off his clothes while the portraits looked on mutinously. It would be brilliant.

Peter's nervous giggle brought him back to himself, and he blinked to find that he was staring at Snape with his head on one side, and that Sirius was watching him. There was something glassy and almost ardent in Sirius' eyes, which melted away an infinitesimally small moment later.

Sirius smiled, all charming. "You're staring into space, old boy," he called, down the table. He sounded cheerful. "You should get some rest - big night tomorrow!"

  


***

  
Sirius and James left just before midnight, taking the cloak and the Map with them, as well as assorted pocketfuls of exploding snaps and multicoloured buttons, their heads bent conspiratorially together. A couple of the other boys not yet in bed looked curiously at Remus, remaining behind.

Stoically, Remus drew a chair up to the big stone windowsill nearest his bed and used it as a desk, trying to think coherently about potion lore and glancing over his shoulder at the slightest noise.

The almost-full sphere of the moon glinted through the glass, a snowball on midnight velvet, the sky peppered with tiny frozen stars.

He didn't want to think about potion lore. He scowled at the moon, certain that if only he weren't at its beck and call, he and Snape could be up to all sorts of trouble right now. All sorts of trouble...

There was a scratching at the next window along. Remus jumped up and pushed aside the heavy drapes, moving guardedly under the other boys' puzzled glances.

He saw a bird wheeling away, its flight path curving around the tower towards a window across the other side of the room. Remus shrugged at the boys, and then, twenty minutes later, complained that he was roasting hot and went to pull the other window open.

There was a note, a sickle, and a galleon.

Remus said, "That's better, fresh air," and read the note, and was glad he did.

 _If you really think waiting for Wednesday is too long, pick up the coins by their edges. Put the sickle in your bed. Close the curtains tightly, and press both faces of the galleon._

  


***

  
He appeared in an open tower top, with a view he didn't know, freezing cold and deserted. He circled it once, and recognised the Astronomy Tower, over there; and the lake, a flat and frosted darkness; and worked out he must be on a tower above Slytherin. He also noticed there was no door.

He examined the coin more closely. He was poking both faces again, beginning to feel anxious and possible betrayed, when he caught a glimmer out of the corner of his eye. He turned towards it, and Snape _appeared_ in front of him.

He looked pleased with himself, still blurry and transparent at the edges.

"How did you do that?" Remus asked, bewildered. They hadn't been taught anything of the kind. Remus wasn't even sure it was NEWT magic.

"I have a few of my own recipes. Invisibility potions are especially interesting. But I didn't bring you here to show off," Snape said, stepping closer.

A part of Remus suspected that was exactly why he'd brought him here, but as he opened his mouth to say so Snape kissed him. The chilled night turned sumptuously warm around them, and Remus growled with pleasure and wriggled his cold hands under Snape's robes.

He suspected he quite liked Snape showing off.

He made a noise of protest when Snape drew back.

Snape's voice was persuasive when he spoke. "It's a bit cold," he said, and paused, and there was a keenness to his eyes. His hands flattened against Remus' chest, then slid down to his waist, and he spoke against Remus' ear. "Perhaps you would like to accompany me back to bed?"

Snape's clothes were loose under his robes, laces undone and buttons unhoused. He could easily have just come from bed, Remus thought, with a twist of heat through his stomach. He thought momentarily of Sirius and James, but his cock was getting hard and Snape's hands were sliding along his hips, and the air up here suddenly seemed so very, very cold.

"Yes," he said, and Snape gave him a pleased look and kissed him again, and then reached into his robes and offered him a slim bottle with no label.

"I tried to make it taste like Turkish Delight, but it's a bit almondy," he said, as if confessing a crime.

Remus laughed. "I like almonds," he said, and then paused when Snape poured him a thimble shot. It poured sluggishly, gleaming grey in the moonlight. "Aren't you having any?"

"I already did," Snape said. There was another pause, and then he said lightly, "But if you think I might be trying to poison you..."

"No, I—No," Remus said firmly, and took the cap out of Snape's fingers. The liquid was a glossy syrup on his tongue, tasting strongly of roses and almonds. He licked the thimble out with the point of his tongue, glancing up at Snape as he did so.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I must be mad, turning you invisible. Come here," he said, and kissed him again, possessive now, until Remus was tingling furiously all over.

Remus moaned, and the tingling intensified; slowly he realised that it must be the spell. His head started spinning harder, and he stepped back and opened his eyes, convinced the world was whirling and tilting around him. The dizziness abated as he gradually realised he was still visible - to himself, at least.

Snape was still frowning, plaintive now, holding out one hand palm-up. "Lost you," he said.

Remus frowned at Snape's frown. "I can still see me."

Snape's frown turned exasperated, and he turned towards Remus' voice. "Of course you can," he said. "The spell hides you from others, much more useful than dissolving your image. And I do _try_ to make potions as useful as possible."

"I never thought of that," Remus said. But Snape read ahead, didn't he? "Do they teach that next year?"

"They don't teach it at all, as far as I'm aware," Snape said, a trifle impatiently. "Do you want to stay out here discussing potions’ theory all night?"

"No?" Remus guessed.

"Put your hand in mine, then," Snape said, and Remus realised that was what Snape was holding up his hand for. He touched Snape's fingertips, feeling a jolt of satisfaction when Snape's fingers spread at his touch, threading their fingers together.

Snape knelt and traced a rune with his fingers; the shape glowed for a second, then faded, and a trapdoor drew itself across the stone besides their feet. And that really _was_ showing off, Remus thought, as Snape lifted it and gave a reassuring nod in Remus' direction, but he rather liked the idea of being what he suspected was Snape's only audience for such things.

Snape led him down through the castle, walking at a steady pace with soft footsteps.

"Why can't we just portkey into your dorm? Why the tower?" Remus whispered, when they'd walked for several minutes without passing anyone else. The air was almost as cold down here as outside.

Snape smirked in his general direction. “ _Slytherin_ has wards against that type of thing."

"But not against leaving?" Remus said doubtfully, thinking of his escape.

"Who knows when one might need to leave in a hurry," Snape said, and pulled Remus alongside him into the Slytherin common room.

The fire was dead in its grate, but stirred obligingly as Snape led him past. Deep orange shadows fluttered across the walls, making the room feel to Remus like an immense, undisturbed cave. Various grandiose soft furnishings threw out plump shadows that seemed to Remus to be the perfect size for hiding malevolent observers.

Snape padded on into the dormitory, leading him between silent ranks of green-curtained beds. Remus' heart was in his throat. There was nobody to be seen, although some of the beds glowed from within. The snores and sighs of Gryffindor were curiously absent.

When Snape paused by a bed in the corner, Remus swallowed hard. He felt trancelike, dreamlike. Snape drew back the rich green curtain and Remus climbed obediently into Snape's bed, catching his breath as Snape followed and let the curtain drop back heavily behind him.

"I've charmed the curtains with a spell of my own design," Snape said, at normal volume, selecting a bottle from his bedside table and pouring a second thimble of clear liquid. "Drink this."

Remus nodded blankly and sipped it down - fiery lemon, with an almond aftertaste - somewhat overwhelmed at the realisation that he was deep in the heart of Slytherin and had no pranks planned whatsoever.

" _Muffliato_ \- it will fill the ears of any eavesdroppers with a nearly imperceptible buzzing," Snape explained, with a sideways smile, "so that nobody outside can hear us."

Remus nodded again, and then, to prove he understood, said hoarsely, "I see."

"So do I," Snape said, and Remus realised he must be visible again. "And since nobody can hear us," Snape said, reaching for him at last, pressing him down against the bed and nudging his mouth hungrily against Remus', "if you," nibbling, kissing, fitting his hand to Remus' waist, awakening Remus from his trance in a sudden shudder of heat, "want to scream my name, you're more than welcome to."

"I'm not really the screaming type," Remus said, into Snape's mouth, and Snape's soft laugh was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard.

"Fair enough," Snape said, sliding his hand down Remus' body, nudging up it under Remus' shirt and down into his pants and closing his fingers around Remus' cock.

He grinned against Remus' mouth as Remus stretched out on his back and breathed, "Fuck—"

"I'm actually fairly confident you're enjoying it, even without you screaming," Snape said, hot against his lips, and Remus bucked his hips reverently up against Snape's hand and then helped as much as he could with pulling off his clothes.

"I can't stay long," he hissed, as his robes peeled apart under Snape's fingers, and Snape nodded and pointed out a ribbon tying one curtain to a bedpost.

"I know - but that knot up there, it's the portkey that matches the coin I sent you, so if you followed my instructions, the moment you want to leave, you'll be back in your bed as if nothing happened."

"Oh," Remus said, gazing up at him, and tugged at Snape's clothes with renewed urgency, since Snape had somehow managed to get him naked during his explanation. "Well, in that case..."

"And of course, I'm going to try to make it worth your while to stay a little while,” Snape breathed, kissing up Remus' bare throat, and his fingers were slippery-wet when they closed around Remus' cock again, and Remus' whole body tensed excitedly before his brain decoded what that meant.

Oh—

"I want to fuck you again," Snape whispered, into his hair, as Remus writhed against him, his skin aflame with the soft wet breath-like touches of Snape's fingers, Snape's mouth. “I can’t stop thinking about it, those noises you made, you just—“

—Fuck. "I want you to," Remus said, lifting his hips for the pillow Snape shoved under them, and then growled when Snape's slippery fingers slid between his legs and pushed inside him, forcefully, without askance or hesitation.

"Mm," Snape exhaled, against his ear, and Remus shook with it and rolled against him, sliding his leg up over Snape's hips, wanting as much full-body contact as Snape's hand between his legs would allow. That moved his cock in a blunt swipe against Snape's stomach, and he threw his head back. Snape's fingers were pushing deeply into him, stretching and twisting, whilst his other hand found Remus' cock and closed around it, working it up and down with a wet, swift stroke that felt obscenely familiar.

"Oh, _oh_ ," Remus managed, rocking against Snape's fingers, and Snape slipped them out and shifted on top of him all at once, sliding his arm under Remus' neck. He hefted Remus' hips against the mattress and folded his legs around his waist and started working his cock into his arse, slow but decisively sure.

Remus yowled, his spine curving, his whole brain rusting silver all at once. Somewhere he found the voice to add, moments later, in defiance, "That. Wasn't a scream."

Snape eased slowly out and pushed, faster, back in. "Oh, no," he agreed, against the side of Remus' head, "I know. You're not the screaming type."

"Fucking _hell_ ," Remus growled, and Snape kissed him, and Remus caught his face in his hands and kissed him back, furiously, the world a shifting place of darkness and Snape fucking him _in a bed_ and the full-body chiming urgency of it all.

He moaned and sucked, soaring with it, and then caught himself thinking, _Surely it isn't supposed to feel this good unless you really like them_. His mouth stuttered at the thought, and he tipped his head back and panted, suddenly feeling like he was about to burst. _I—can't._

He shuddered, sensation and heat and something dangerously close to emotion building inside him. Every shove of Snape's cock, the rasp of every breath—he was riding the edge of something, more intense than sex, totally fucking terrifying.

 _Maybe it's not just the thrill of finally getting some sex; maybe it's *him*._

Remus squeezed his eyes even harder shut and muttered, "Fuck me."

"Mm," Snape said, and folded one hand around Remus' knee, the other across Remus' ear. He was close, Remus could feel it; his skin slick, his cock swollen to its fullest, his breath coming in that ragged way that Remus had come to recognise, to anticipate. The dirty rush of it chased all his other thoughts away, and he let himself love it as Snape held him down and kissed him hard, fucking him with velvet certainty, until Snape came with a press of teeth against Remus' mouth, a clutching at his skin, a careless growl.

He was rolling Remus over on top of him before the thrusts of his hips had stilled.

Remus gulped hard at the shift in altitude, his blood racing to his head, and he rubbed his cock against Snape's stomach almost painfully, Snape's dick still inside him, Snape's hands in his hair.

“Ah—“ he bit off, as Snape's hands slid down and jerked him hard onto his softening cock, shoving it thickly further into him and forcing a finger in alongside. “Fuck—“ Remus gasped, as Snape surged up beneath him and wrapped his other hand around Remus' cock, and Remus came in waves, grinding down on that extra stretch, shooting all over Snape's stomach with a series of low, heartfelt groans.

"...Still not," he managed, in an attempt at worldly charm, “screaming.” He heard the rumble of Snape's laughter around him as he collapsed on top of him, and kissed dizzily along Snape's throat until his vision returned.

“Yes, well, next time,” Snape said. His hand was resting across the back of Remus’ head, warm and firm. Apparently content to let him lie there as long as he wanted.

Remus smirked against his clavicle. “You wish.”

Snape's cock had slipped out of him, and Remus wriggled against its wet softness, feeling slick and uninhibited, radiantly debauched.

“Actually,” Snape said, lowering his voice, “I was thinking that next time, if you wanted, we could - ah - change places.”

Remus’ cock gave a twitch. “Oh really?”

“Mmm.”

Gosh. “Okay,” Remus said, a little too eagerly as Snape snorted and gave the back of his head a gentle cuff.

Remus swallowed, shivering as his skin started to register that some of it was pressed against the sweaty heat of Snape's skin, and some of it was radiating into the chill-curtained air.

Snape responded to his movement, shifting beneath him and sliding his hands up across Remus' cold back. Remus shivered again.

"Cold," he said.

Snape shifted beneath him, then rolled him sideways and then back, pulling him under the covers, into a sublime warmth, an enclosure of long damp limbs and warm breath and perfect happy drowsiness.

Remus’ last thought, as he burrowed closer, was: _Oh, fuck, I really bloody like him._

  


***

  
Remus woke up an indeterminable time later, entwined and sticky. He could hear - and feel - Snape breathing against him. His head span in delicious, dizzy, sleep-drunk happiness. He nuzzled closer—and then blinked hard, abruptly realising that he was _sleeping_ in _Slytherin_.

Fuck fuck fuck, he thought, flinching awake. James. _Sirius_.

"I need to go back," he whispered, nudging at Snape with his forehead.

Snape stirred restlessly and made a low noise of protest, and then his eyes flicked open, black and bright. "You're still—" he said.

There was an infinitesimal pause.

Then Snape said clearly, “Lupin. Portkey. Um, untie the ribbon I showed you, it'll send you back."

"Right," Remus whispered, and stole a final kiss before reaching up to tug the ribbon on the curtain.

In a wrench of blue light, he was snatched back into his dark cool Gryffindor bed.

The room was quiet and still, and relief enveloped him, his heartbeat gradually slowing down. He struggled under the covers, burrowing under his stiff cold sheets and tucking them firmly up above his nose, inhaling slowly and secretly pleased they hadn't bothered with cleaning spells this time because the warm muskiness had become wonderfully familiar.

He was already falling asleep when he realised there was a clear panel of dawn light shining onto his covers; and that he'd pulled the curtains tightly shut before he’d left; and that this was not a good thing.

  


***

  
He woke up in dizzy horror, dreaming he was making an Unbreakable Vow with Sirius and James and then Peter piped up and said in front of everyone that he'd seen Remus in Snape's bed. James had scowled and levitated Remus upside down - for the first time ever - and Sirius had sighed and rolled up his sleeves.

As Remus sat bolt upright in bed, his muscles clenching with an adrenaline fizz, he saw again that his curtains were ajar and felt something tangle tightly in his stomach. Sirius and James _knew_. They'd been too obvious. He shouldn't have gone last night; stupid, so stupid.

He wondered how long he could hold off before having to face them, and started listening for the morning noises of schoolboys. There was nothing. He'd slept in again.

He bounded up, showered, dressed, and was in the hall for breakfast within a quarter of an hour. He’d never felt less hungry in his life.

"Moony," Sirius called gaily, waving him over. "How _are_ you, my man?"

They'd saved him the seat between them. "Fine," Remus said automatically, glancing around for any trace of suspicion.

"Glad of it," James said cheerfully, and passed Remus a basket of toasted breads.

They were facing away from the Slytherin table—but there was an even chance of that every morning, so Remus couldn't read much into it.

"You were out cold when I looked in on you this morning," Sirius said, sliding the butter plate along the table, into Remus' reach. "Wasn't sure you'd stir before noon."

"But we understand," James said, in a playful undertone. "That time of the month, and all that," he murmured, and ducked in anticipation of Remus' shove.

"Shut up," Remus grinned, shoving at him just as hard as usual, and Sirius crowed as James cowered in comedic terror.

The cold tangle in Remus' stomach began to unknot. They either knew and had decided they didn't care - highly unlikely - or they didn't know after all, and he and Snape had got away with it, in the face of everything.

It was the tastiest breakfast ever.

  


***

  
 _After p.m. lessons, kitchen, house elf entrance_ , Remus wrote, and charmed it to open only under Snape's fingers, and pushed it into the surprised claws of a passing sparrow.

After his least-attentive Charms lesson in history, his stomach full of butterflies, he told James he was pre-moon hungry. He doubled back on himself with a promise that he'd bring James a portion of whatever he managed to charm out of the house-elves, and strode light-as-air towards the east wing kitchen courtyard, an area of stone walls and paving encroached upon by undisciplined undergrowth.

All the house elves were inside, this close to suppertime. The sun was at half-mast, sidling towards the horizon, icily bright and strong. Shadows cut deeply against the smooth, ashen stone.

Snape was in a panel of sunlight, sitting with his back to the wall, knees up, scrawling on a pad resting against the slant of his thighs. He squinted up as Remus approached.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, as Remus' shadow fell over his face.

"Fancy," Remus said, and he'd checked the undergrowth on his way in so he didn't need to look around, could just flop down against the wall next to Snape and raise an eyebrow at him.

Snape looked at him, his hair falling artlessly in his eyes. In the bright pale daylight, he looked washed out: lustrously ethereal, like a fond memory of a summer day. Remus wanted to crush him into the stone wall and suck his cock until he swore.

"What've you just had, History of Magic?” he asked instead.

Snape looked at him incredulously, and then lifted his fingers to enclose Remus' chin. "You really reinforce my suspicion that Gryffindors talk to much.” He kissed him, his eyes half-open, his mouth brushing over Remus', twice, before it opened against Remus' slow inhalation. His lower lip nudged between Remus' lips, and Remus' head filled with the sensual brushes of skin on skin, dry and soft before feeling sweetly incinerated at a slow drag of Snape's tongue.

Remus closed his eyes, light flashing behind them, and leant closer. He heard the rustle of the paper pad sliding to the floor. He closed one hand on Snape's hip, the other on his wrist, encouraging him, mumbling approval under his breath. He couldn't tell if minutes were passing, or seconds - just that he couldn't have pulled back if he tried.

"Don't make me try to rip your clothes off right here in the yard," Snape whispered, as the restless energy of the kiss began to swell into a full-body agitation.

"What if I want you to?"

Snape pulled back. "You have a prior appointment," he told Remus. "At least, that's what you told me.”

Remus opened his eyes a fraction. The shadows were slinking up; Remus realised they'd already swallowed the wall as high as their ribs. Time to go. He didn't even have time to beg some food off the house elves for James. "I do have a prior appointment," he confirmed quietly. It sounded a great deal more stilted in his voice. "But I wish I didn't have to go."

"The feeling's mutual," Snape said dryly, drawing Remus' hand down into his lap.

Beginning to smile, Remus squeezed at the bulge he found there. He wanted to slip his hand inside and feel Snape pushing into his palm, naked skin on skin. He smoothed his hand up to the waistband of Snape's trousers, his fingertips slipping against the exciting hairy firmness of the lowest part of Snape's stomach, and began working his fingers down under the tension of the button.

As Snape's hand flew to disentangle him, Remus said, "Let me," against Snape's mouth.

Snape made a low noise, rich as thunder. "You have a talent for mixed messages," he complained, nipping at Remus' lower lip.

Remus grinned and kissed him, pushing his fingers down the slope of Snape's stomach and into his pants, twisting his wrist to try and wrap his fist around the hot jut of his cock. He wanted to break the hush out here with Snape gasping against his ear, maybe even gasping his name...

The air cooled as the shadows slid up around their faces.

"Ah," Snape gasped, as Remus' fingers closed on the perfect head of his cock and squeezed, even as his mind filled with the image of turning into the wolf right here; ripping Snape to shreds and waking up tomorrow to find the tragic news of a student mauled. The realisation.

"I have to go," he said, without letting go, feeling Snape’s cock nudge against his palm.

Snape gave him a dazzling scowl, shook his head in disbelief and cupped Remus' fist with his own hand. "Can't you just—"

“Wednesday,” Remus said desperately.

Snape stared at him and then, after a long moment, drew back his hands. “Wednesday,” he said, visibly swallowing.

"I wish—"

"As I said - mixed messages," Snape said, but without venom, and Remus pulled his hand regretfully back from Snape's cock, his expression as apologetic as he could make it.

"I swear," he said roughly, "on Wednesday we're going to have all night."

"Well that's something, at least," Snape said, his eyes turning dark with contemplation. "Come on, get out of here before you make me do something you'll regret."

Remus went.

  


***

  
Normally, shutting himself into the shadowed box of the Shrieking Shack filled Remus with an oppressive full-body dread.

Normally, he didn't have splinters of light cracking through that dread, fantasies burning through the darkness as they filled Remus' head with Snape's skin, Snape's gasps, the slow working certainty of Snape's hands...

He braced against the wall of the Shack and tipped his head back, awaiting the moonlight with a curious, welcoming glee. He just wanted to get this over with, wait his way through tomorrow's weakness and tomorrow night's change, and then he'd have a whole month to do what he wanted, with whoever he liked, to see Snape as mu—

  


***

  
—Much as he liked, he thought, his head aching in the sudden icy daylight.

It was Tuesday morning. His jaw stung viciously, and his joints felt swollen and heavy. The winter nights were crueller, because sunrise was so much later. There were so many more hours in which to beat at the walls.

He stumbled through the day like an injured cub, shying back from loud noises and cringing at sudden movements, aching all over and dizzy with sleep deprivation. He kept mostly to the secret passages of the castle, and whenever he could get away he napped in Gryffindor tower.

He didn't want Snape to see him like this, and kept his head down in the corridors; the interim day was always the worst, and he knew that he didn't look well.

To his horror, Snape was lurking outside Gryffindor tower just before sunset, just as Remus was steeling himself to head back to the Shack. He looked up sharply when Remus crept out the portrait, and moved a couple of paces down the corridor, into the shadows.

Full of misgivings, Remus followed, asking faintly, "What are you doing here?"

Snape frowned. "You asked me to meet you."

"Tomorrow," Remus said, glancing over his shoulder. His ears were buzzing, and his eyes felt hot and dry in their sockets. There was nobody there. "We're meeting tomorrow."

"You sent me a note," Snape said, and Remus _hadn't_ sent him a note, he was _certain_ he hadn't sent him a note, but now Sirius was emerging from the portrait, and Remus couldn't think about anything but getting away.

"I made a mistake," he said, his voice rasping, and then Sirius was clapping Remus on the shoulder.

"I thought you were in bed, old boy!" he said, heartily. "Feeling better? All right, Snape?"

"Uh, yes, a bit better," Remus mumbled, his shoulder blades burning under Sirius' palm.

Snape was looking at Sirius guardedly, but lifted his chin and said clearly enough, "Fine, thank you, Black."

"Good, good," Sirius said, and patted Remus' shoulder hard enough to rattle his teeth. He clapped Snape on the arm with his other hand. “Glad to hear it! All chums now, aren't we?"

Snape visibly stiffened, but didn't pull away.

"See you at supper then, boys," Sirius called, heading off down the corridor with a backwards wave.

As one, Remus and Snape moved further into the shadows.

"That was - curious," Snape said.

Remus rubbed his ear. "I was thinking the same thing," he admitted, although mostly what he'd been thinking was _What the fuck just happened?_

His skin was prickling horribly, its precursor to the moon rising; he ought to be at the Whomping Willow by now.

"Are you feeling unwell?" Snape asked, and Remus realised he was rubbing his forearms and shivering.

He clutched at the straw Snape had unwittingly offered. "Yes. I feel dreadful," he said, and then shivered harder as Snape touched his elbow, steering him closer.

"If you don't think tomorrow is a good idea—"

"No," Remus interrupted, "no, I definitely—I'll be fine. I just need to lie down. I mean, I need to go to bed—I need some sleep. I didn't sleep well last night. I'll see you later," he added quickly, and squeezed Snape's arm by way of farewell, and started back towards the portrait.

“Lupin,” Snape said, and Remus looked back impatiently, desperate to leave.

"What?" It came out shrill.

Snape's eyes were black in the darkness. "Feel better," he said, and closed the distance between them and kissed him on the mouth, brilliantly short and sweet; it felt to Remus like a flash of sunlight had hit the dark glass of his thoughts. He swallowed when Snape pulled back.

"Tomorrow," he promised, his voice hoarse with feeling, and Snape nodded, his hair falling in his eyes, the corner of his mouth crooked in a slight smile.

Remus lifted his palm in farewell and then strode towards the tower, glancing back to see Snape turn and head down the stairs.

As soon as he was gone, Remus scrambled back down the corridor, almost falling over himself in his hurry to get outside. Panic welled up in him as he skidded around corners and down familiar worn-stone steps. The scents of the castle were beginning to make his nose itch, all that warm flesh, those pounding hearts...

He ran into Sirius again by the castle door closest to the Whomping Willow.

"Cutting it a bit fine, aren't we, Moony?" Sirius called, nodding at the glowing horizon.

Remus was bent almost double with panting. "I know, I couldn't get away," he said, and then, heartfelt, "fuck, thank you," because Sirius had thrown a small rock at the Whomping Willow and managed to hit the switch dead-on.

Remus scrambled through the branches and eased up the trap door, swinging his legs in with a huge sense of relief.

"Snivellus is not in on the secret, hmm," Sirius said, framed handsomely against the dusk sky with branches silhouetted around him.

Remus frowned up at him, unable to see his face. "Of course not," he said, shaking his head and grimacing at the thought of how repulsed Snape would be if he knew, how horrified. Snape was a scholar; he'd know everything werewolves were capable of, everything they were famous for.

"Good," Sirius said warmly, and ruffled Remus' hair. "I like things to be just us three. Now scram," he murmured, "unless you want a canine escort," and Remus grinned at him and dropped into the passageway, the panic in his stomach beginning to unwind as the trapdoor banged shut behind him.

He made his way down to the Shack and pushed himself up into the small wooden room, falling onto his back and groaning softly. He'd made it, and soon the night would pass and it would be Wednesday, when his life could start again.

He thought of Snape, and that sunshine-on-glass shimmer went through him again. He found the strength to sit up and prop himself against the splintered back wall of the Shack, taking deep breaths and forcing a smile as the prickling in his skin increased. It was mere hours, he told himself, that he had to endure before he would be free to make his own choices again.

Just a few short hours, and then it would be Wednesday, _Wednesday_ , lustrously promising Wed—

  


***

  
Nothing, nothing, nothing. Hunting. Hateful place. Barren, hollow, him alone in the heart of it—but wait! There! Hmm. Strange encroaching creeping of a delicious smell, stronger than any mouse or roadside Muggle—and then a curdling wave of human fear, panicked endorphins fizzing up Remus' nose so devastatingly _tantalisingly_ close—and then the noise of a scuffle broke out, and the delicious smell started retreating, and Remus gnashed his teeth and danced in howling fury, and raked his claws repeatedly into every stoic wooden wall.

  


***

  
—Wednesday, Remus thought, and blinked, and groaned. The light of sunrise was making the cracks in the wooden walls gleam.

Remus looked down at himself. His arms were covered in scratches, and the walls—the walls really had taken a beating. He swallowed, and moved his tongue along the line of his thankfully human teeth, counting patiently, calming himself down.

Hazy memories swam though his mind; he remembered thinking longingly of Snape before the change came over him, and then hunger - such a hunger - and then...

He couldn't remember any more.

  


***

  
He lay there, staring unseeing at the ceiling, until the trap door banged open.

"Moony," Sirius beamed, emerging up out of tunnel. "How the devil are you?"

"Hungry," Remus said, reaching gratefully for the basket of slightly-stale bread and cheese that Sirius slung at his feet.

"Cloudless night," James said, wincing. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was pale. He pushed himself up into the room and whistled. "You really went to town on the place this time." He looked at Sirius and said, with a hardness to his voice, "Good job we were keeping well clear."

Sirius grinned. “Isn’t it,” he said, and there was something strange between them, but Remus was too busy gulping down bread and cheese to pay them much heed. He always felt horrible the morning after, weak as an enraged kitten, wrung out. The bread helped.

Sirius strode around the room, fingering the particularly deep rents in the wood with dispassionate interest. "Glad we reinforced it," he called, over his shoulder. He grinned at James again. "Must've been quite the terror."

"Yes, imagine how dangerous he'd have been in the thick of it," James said, his words clipped and meaningful.

Still chewing, Remus glanced at James, taken aback.

"But that's the point," Sirius murmured, wandering back to Remus and curling an arm round his shoulders, "of isolating him here, so nobody undeserving gets hurt. Isn't that right, Moony?"

Remus nodded. "That's right," he said, swallowing and looking askance at James. What was his problem?

James looked at Sirius for a long moment, then ducked his head. "I know," he said gruffly to Remus, and punched him gently on the arm. "Don't mind me, I know it's not your fault. Just that Lily was asking about you last night, got me edgy."

"Oh," Remus said, relieved. Just the latest instalment of the epic melodrama of Lily and James. "Well, makes sense." He laughed a little, wanting James to know that he hadn't taken it personally. "You wouldn't want someone you care about sniffing around me on a dark night, would you? Anything could happen."

Sirius laughed too, and, after a sick-looking moment, so did James.

  


***

  
Once he’d had bread, cheese and water, and a sprint around the castle to ease out the all-night-clenched tension of his limbs, Remus' next overwhelming desire was for a hand on his cock.

He sniffed happily at the fresh dawn air as he sprinted, and aimed the end of his run at the owlery. For once, he was fairly confident, it wouldn't have to be his own hand.

 _Free. Looking forwards to tonight_ , he wrote, giving the owl a fresh handful of worms.

  


***

  
He peered at the Slytherin table at breakfast, but Snape wasn't there, and Sirius was keeping Remus, James and Peter occupied with a running commentary on the morning's paper, ruthlessly dissecting a gossipy article about his cousin's latest no-expense-spared Christmas party.

" _And of course severe penalties were to be enforced given any incidences of underage drinking_ ," he read, then scoffed, "I don't believe it for a minute! Unless by penalties they mean spanking, which I know for a fact that lot wouldn't see as a punishment..."

Remus laughed in all the right places, keeping one surreptitious eye on the door.

Maybe he hadn't got his owl, he thought. It was still early.

  


***

  
On the moving staircase to the Astrology tower, a familiar flash of dark hair caught Remus' eye. He lifted his hand, briefly uncaring if anyone saw. Snape was on a different staircase, however, moving in a different direction, and didn't seem to see him pass.

  


***

  
When he hadn't heard back from him by the end of lessons, hadn't caught Snape's eye during supper, and his aim of intercepting him on the way out of the Great Hall had somehow missed, Remus started to feel uneasy.

Steeling himself, he caught the arm of Snape's friend, the pale Slytherin with the scarred hands. "Sorry," he started, when the boy glared at him. "I was just wondering. Do you know where Snape's got to?"

The boy stared at him in incomprehension, then demanded, "Why on earth should _I_ know? Why do you keep bothering me? I'm in my last year of NEWTs, you know, I hardly have time to hang around with the years below."

"But you’re— you sit together," Remus said, as the boy shook his arm free of Remus' grasp.

"There was some potions work I was helping him with," he said shortly, and his cheeks turned pink, and Remus thought, right, yes, _you_ were helping _him_ , and nodded.

"I see," he said slowly, grinning inside as the boy stalked off. Snape’s talents really were quite far-reaching.

He couldn't wait to get him alone.

He checked his timepiece, and decided that seven-thirty was not too early to head along to the rendezvous. Then he thought that maybe it was. He made himself walk slowly, and detoured to the kitchen to beg a paper bag of leftover chipped toffee off the house-elves, getting a little lost in the idea of feeding it to Snape with his fingers.

He reached the corridor containing the Room of Requirement just before eight o'clock. It was deserted. He grinned as he looked up and down its length, just in case. He was a free man, the night was young, and he felt warm with anticipation. All night, he thought, and sat down next to the stretch of bare wall that seemed to hum with potential.

He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to nibble on a bit of toffee, and waited for the familiar soft pad of Snape's approaching footsteps.

It wasn't until later, much later, when he heard a dull distant chime and realised it marked the closing up of the library for the night, that he realised that Snape definitely wasn’t going to come.

 


	5. Chapter 5

By the time he got back to the Gryffindor common room, Remus was shaking. Not dramatically, but with a dull thready shivers that seemed to come from the furious core of him. Pieces were falling into place: the unexplained notes, the abrupt changes in tone, James' uneasy looks, Sirius' bright cold smile.

It was late, now, and most of the younger years had gone to bed. Sirius and James—hadn't. They were sitting around one of the low tables with Jenkins and Albert, sharing answers for tomorrow's Charms lesson. On the sofa, Lily and Jessica were reading. The room was quiet but for the industrious scratch of quill on parchment.

Remus felt his stomach turn as Sirius glanced over, then nudged James.

"Thought you were—out," Sirius said.

Remus had told them he was going back to the Shack, repairing some of the worst damage, doing some work on the corridor reinforcements they always talked about. He'd known they wouldn't - couldn't - object to that, and before he'd left he'd taken the precaution of hiding the fucking Map in an Unspellable envelope, under his mattress.

"Library," Remus said, without slowing. The back of his mouth felt too tight to get the words through.

A couple of the others looked up. Remus ignored them, keeping his gaze straight forwards, heading for the dormitory.

"You'll give yourself a cramp," Sirius said, "all that writing," but Remus was already walking past, and they didn't follow him.

He reached his bed and drew back the curtain. The house elves had returned the rumple he'd left behind to a neat plump state, as always, but when he reached under the cool pillow—there. A coin; the sickle.

He put it in his pocket, then went to his trunk and took out the galleon as well - wrapped in a thick slip of paper, folded over itself four times.

He walked as far as the doorway to the common room with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The sickle was cold against his palm, warming rapidly.

Remus knelt in the doorway for a moment, fiddling with his boot-lace. He glanced up; no one was watching. He nestled the sickle behind the jut of the door-frame, in the shadows, then stood again and cleared his throat as he stepped down into the room.

Sirius looked up and saw him, and seemed to both narrow his eyes and brighten at once. "Back again! Are you going to join us, or what?”

James looked up at that, twisting around to see. "We've only been through the first four inches," he said, and patted the chair next to him, looking hopeful. "Could use your help."

"I'm going out," Remus said.

Sirius' eyes narrowed. "Moony, where—"

“ _Now_ I'm going - there," Remus said, daring them to contradict. Daring them to question whether _there_ was the Shack or a classroom or—

"Fair enough," James said quickly.

Remus walked out without looking back, strode through the portrait, then plunged his hand into his pocket.

  


***

  
He appeared on Slytherin Tower, into a roaring hush created by the winter wind blotting out every extraneous noise.

The air was so cold it took his breath away. Remus waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, drawing the chill deep into his lungs, and slipped the galleon back into his pocket, into its paper envelope, folded tight.

The cold was almost soothing. It took the edge off the anger that had been burning hotter the longer he met Sirius' gaze; it made the tremor in his fingers feel appropriate rather than terrifying. For a moment his nerve faltered, and he considered staying up here. He could let himself go numb, forget what Sirius had done, what Snape had seen or at the very least heard - no.

He knelt and placed his hand on the freezing stone, and traced the shape of the rune to the best of his memory. The stone flashed warm against his fingertips, the rune glowing in the darkness for a shimmering second, and then a flagstone slid aside, revealing the stairwell that led down into the shadows below.

  


***

  
Remus took the steps carefully, remembering a hand-hold here and there in the dark. He was amazed that he could remember anything of their route, so distracted he’d been at the time - but fear was apparently an excellent whetstone for the brain.

And fear had a good firm grip on him.

He was inside Slytherin with no cloak, no invisibility potion, no guide. He didn’t remember Snape taking him through any other wards, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t setting off alarms throughout the dungeon this very instant. He imagined most of the younger pupils would be in bed, but the older ones, the rebels, the ones up to no good… There was every chance he could be discovered at any moment.

He just hoped they could be put off until he found Snape.

They _had_ to be.

Remus followed the steep stairs and stone corridors down into the dungeon, his pulse drumming in his ears at every step.

He wet his lips as he finally came face to face with the entrance to the common room, a thick reinforced door hung with silver curtains, ajar. He remembered the layout of the room within: couches and low tables, all dark velvet and carved wood. It felt fractionally warmer down here, but stuffier too, as if the occupants’ reputation weighed heavy on the air itself. Or maybe, he told himself sternly, they’d had the fire on all evening.

He could hear voices within, some lazy laughter, some chatting. The sound paralysed him, making him seriously consider retracing his steps. He could work out another way home from the top of the tower. He could find Snape tomorrow. He could—no. This had to be done now.

He heard footsteps some distance behind him, too quick and light-footed to be Snape’s. This had to be done _right_ now.

Remus pushed open the door on its well-oiled hinges and walked inside. He scanned rapidly for Snape, but no: he wasn’t that dark haired boy curled up in an armchair in the corner, drawing, nor one of the thin gangly girls stretched out reading in front of the fire, nor was he any of the half-dozen clustered around that lamp-lit coffee table, who looked about Remus’ age, and seemed to be engaged in a scroll-sharing exercise similar to the one he’d left his classmates undertaking in the Gryffindor common room.

They didn’t - all - notice immediately, but within seconds one of the gangly girls had looked up and squinted at him. She was young - maybe a second-year? - and Lupin found himself thinking blankly that she really ought to be in bed by now.

Like a ripple expanding across water, awareness of Remus swept through the room. The gangly girl nudged her friend, who sat up, eyes going round. The movement attracted the attention of the boy in the armchair, who looked first at the girls, then followed their stares to Remus.

Remus folded his arms, bracing for the inevitable.

“Hey,” one of the girls at the coffee table said, a clear bark of alarm. “You’re _not Slytherin_.”

That galvanised the gangly girl into action, and she jumped to her feet and advanced on him. “What are you doing in here?” she demanded, her voice shrill with indignation.

A couple of the boys at the coffee table were also pushing back their chairs.

Remus kept his focus on the gangly girl. His height was an advantage, at least. "I'm here to see Snape,” he told her, and her eyes grew even rounder.

“Snape?” the older girl said, sounding mystified. She’d stood up too, and although Remus couldn’t see well out of the corner of his eye, he had a sense that she had drawn her wand.

A boy darted forwards and peered at Remus’ robes, then looked in horror at his face. “A Gryffindor,” he hissed, and waved his arms. “How—You can't just walk in here! Who gave you the password?"

“I’m here to see Snape,” Remus told him, then made himself look at the older pupils. They were all on their feet now, scrolls abandoned on the table, their faces displaying what Remus suspected were varying degrees of enthusiasm for having him beaten to a pulp. He kept his voice businesslike. “Have you seen him?”

Freed from his attention, the gangly girl scrambled back a few steps and squeaked, “I’m calling the Prefects!"

"You're going to be in so much trouble," the nearest boy said, his face darkening with relish.

Remus glanced around and saw a couple of other boys advancing on him, sneering in anticipation.

“Maybe,” Remus said, standing his ground, talking a little louder. They could try to intimidate him all they liked: he wasn’t going anywhere. This time, he was going to do the right thing. “But meanwhile, I'm here to see—“

"He's here to see me," Snape's voice cut in, behind him.

Remus whipped around, feeling a belated mixture of shock and gratitude and relief—and then realised that Snape was framed in the doorway with a wand levelled at Remus’ chest. His face was blank.

If he was impressed that Remus had walked right into the heart of Slytherin to see him, he didn't show it. Or anything else, at all.

Remus stared at him and felt the icy slush of his suspicions freeze into certainty. Snape knew.

"I need to talk to you,” Remus said, and now it was difficult to keep his voice under control. The notes, the looks, Sirius’ change of tune—but despite it all, part of him had still wanted to believe that Snape had just forgotten.

Snape’s eyes gave nothing away. “I think you may be right,” he said, without lowering his wand. “I’m not sure I need to listen."

“Snape,” one of the boys began, “what the fuck is—“

“It’s not important,” Snape interrupted, and his voice was resonant with something that brought Remus out in shivers. “He’s not important. I’ll see him out.”

He made a small but unmistakable gesture with his wand, indicating for Remus to retreat back the way he’d come.

Remus made himself walk towards him instead, and the flash of alarm that crossed Snape’s face made his chest ache. Snape _definitely_ knew.

“Look,” Remus said quietly, “please, I just—“

“No closer,” Snape snapped, and Remus felt his face fall despite himself.

“I’ll get the Prefects,” the gangly girl called again.

For the first time, Snape’s attention flickered over Remus’ shoulder. He raised his voice in her direction. “That’s really not necessary, Larson.”

“But Snape—“ the older girl, now, her wand still drawn “—he must have stolen the password from someone. We have to—“

“I’ll deal with it,” Snape said loudly, and looked back at Remus for a long, hard moment. “Very well,” he said, unsmiling. “Talk.”

“Not here,” Remus said.

“Then where?”

Remus couldn’t help but glance at the doorway to the dormitory.

He half expected, when he looked back, for Snape to be wearing one of the incredulous, irritable expressions he had become so familiar with over the last week—but Snape’s mask was still up, and he just said, “Fine. _Muffliato_.”

He stalked through the doorway without looking back. Remus followed him, wishing he could discern without looking whether the Slytherins behind him were going to take this lying down. He couldn’t hear any footsteps, so it seemed like for now Snape’s influence - whatever it was - was holding firm. Or maybe he was about to be bashed over the head with a candlestick by someone so soft-footed he’d never hear it coming.

The dormitory was as he remembered it as well, all hushed rows of expensive beds and silent, oppressive stillness.

Snape led him into an alcove and then stopped, turning and folding his arms. His wand was still in the crook of his fingers, casual as a quill. Without giving anything away, he said, “Right, then. What do you want?”

Remus took a deep breath. He’d been unsure of exactly what to say, ever since that moment when it had all fallen into place, sitting in the deserted corridor with a crumpled bag of toffee at his feet, realisation creeping over him by excruciating degrees. He still didn’t know how to find the right words. Really, what possible right words could there be?

"They told you," he said, starting with the best possible version of some really fucking awful scenarios.

"They—" Snape started, glaring, but Remus didn't need to hear Snape's answer when it was obvious in the shadows of his eyes, the tight set of his mouth.

"They showed you,” Remus corrected. “And they didn't warn you first," he added, with gathering certainty. Fuck, but he would like to be wrong about this; any of it. “They sprung it on you, probably tried to trick you into it, and they laughed as you ran away."

Snape’s mouth twitched as if he was remembering the taste of something bad. “Black laughed,” he said. “Potter seemed rather preoccupied with ensuring that I would escape in the loudest, most conspicuous manner possible.”

Escape. From him. “I’m sorry,” Remus said, his voice raw.

Snape looked, if anything, even less impressed than before. “That does seem to be your principal state of being.”

It barely stung, even though he deserved it. He was trying to remember anything from last night, and failing. All he could see in his mind’s eye was Sirius, this morning, and his triumphant look to James as he said: “ _That’s the point of isolating him here, so nobody undeserving gets hurt_.”

Sirius, who had laughed.

Remus gritted his teeth. “You weren't a coward to run away,” he said abruptly, needing Snape to know that, and know that Remus believed it too.

“I know!” Snape scoffed. “You do not need to convince me of the wisdom of not standing up a werewolf, Lupin - I am in possession of at least a basic level of intelligence.”

“Oh,” Remus said, and that ought to have made him feel better, except for how Snape was looking at him now, a curiously distant light in his eyes, wearing the faintest curl of an awful smirk.

Remus swallowed. “What?” he asked, feeling the trembling starting up again, colder than cold. “What, then?”

Snape looked away. His mouth took on a pained smile, as if even imagining what he was about to say made him wince. Then he looked Remus straight in the eye and said, perfectly neutrally, “I would obviously prefer to be confident that you weren’t laughing with them.”

Remus stared at him, open mouthed, feeling like he’d taken a bludger to the chest.

“And I am not,” Snape said, giving the knife a helpful twist.

Remus swallowed again as a strange serenity overtook him. A dozen outraged statements bubbled through his head, but they seemed far-away, the heated remnants of an unimportant argument. “Right,” he said, simply. “Well. Good - that’s easy. You need to know that, and I need you to come with me."

  


***

  
The loose ends of the ribbon on Snape’s curtain curled against his bedpost, exactly as Remus had left them.

Remus hung back whilst Snape re-tied the knot, keeping a polite distance.

He felt very calm. Snape was doing as he asked, and when they got to Gryffindor—well, that was in the future. Right now, he just felt very calm.

“Ready,” Snape said, and his mask was back in place as well.

Remus closed his fingers on one end of the ribbon and held out his other hand to Snape.

For a moment he thought Snape wouldn’t take it, and his calmness wobbled, a dazzling anger rushing up from deep inside—but then Snape cupped his elbow and stepped close to him, and everything was fine again, fine and calm.

He tugged on the ribbon.

  


***

  
They appeared in the doorway where Remus had planted the sickle; just to the left of the door frame. Remus heard Snape inhale sharply, possibly on realising that they were as deep inside Gryffindor as they had been inside Slytherin - but neither of them made any further comment.

Remus stepped into the doorway of the common room, and calmly surveyed.

Sirius and James were still there, at their table.

The others had gone, and three first-years now occupied the sofa where Lily and Jessica had been. Remus waved at them, catching their attention, then pointed at the door. “Bedtime,” he said.

“Moony!” Sirius said, looking up in surprise, then grinning. “Didn’t notice you come in.”

“No,” Remus agreed. “You wouldn’t have.”

He glanced back over his shoulder, back through the doorway, where Snape was standing very tall and stiff, still out of sight.

“Come on,” Remus said to him, and then walked forwards into the room. “ _Muffliato._ ”

He glared at the first-years, who took a hint, hurriedly gathering their things and getting to their feet—and then stopping dead as Snape appeared in the doorway behind him.

James jumped up from the table with a clatter, his mouth open. “ _What_ is he doing here?”

Remus didn't wait for the last of the first-years to scramble away before advancing on Sirius. His voice rasped as he said, _calmly_ : “What did you do?"

“Whoa,” Sirius laughed, putting up his hands, “Moony—!“

James’ attention was all on Snape, and his voice rose and cracked: “How did you get in here? _How did you get past us?_ ”

Remus ignored him, grabbing the front of Sirius' robes and dragging him up out of his chair. "What. Did. You. Do?"

The laugh evaporated from Sirius’ face. “Ask him yourself," he said, drawing up to his full height, closing his fists around Remus’ hands and trying to shove him off.

Remus tightened his grip. “I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck off,” Sirius said, beginning to struggle in earnest.

Remus shook his head, staring Sirius in the eye. “I want,” he said, loud but calm, still so calm, “to hear you say that you risked someone's life for a joke.”

He half expected James to interrupt, interject, mount a defence, but James was silent now.

“It wasn’t a joke,” Sirius drawled, smiling and dangerous; he’d stopped struggling. “It was a much-needed education about the way things are.”

Remus felt his illusion of calmness burning away, disintegrating like tissue paper on hot coals. He bared his teeth. “You know nothing about the way things are.“

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come off it! I know he’s hateful, he’s not one of us, he’s a greasy snivelling prick who—”

Remus heard himself laugh, a nasty bark of sound that cut Sirius off mid-sentence.

“You know nothing,” Remus said, “because you think this is about him, whereas this is about you, using me.” The deadly calm was back in his voice, the words tumbling up from somewhere as if they’d been queueing up to get out. “I don't care what you think of him, or your natural fucking order - don’t you dare make me into the terror I spend my life trying not to be. Don't use me, the worst part of me, in your stupid fucking games, and especially don't you ever dare lay a finger on Snape again.”

Sirius’ lip curled at the name. "Because he's your—"

“ _Because he's a person_ ,” Remus shouted, and shook him. ”I have no idea what he is to me! He might never speak to me again! But if you want me to speak to _you_ again—“ He broke off, releasing his grip enough that Sirius could wrench free and stumble backwards.

Sirius righted himself, eyes glinting. “Fine,” he said, “I got carried away. I apologise. To you,” he added quickly, with a dismissive sneer in Snape’s direction, “not to him.”

“I wouldn’t be interested in your apology anyway,” Snape said.

In the absolute silence that followed James made a pained noise and pinched the bridge of his nose, dislodging his glasses, while Remus shot Snape a disbelieving look. An an admission of regret from Sirius was like blood from a stone: exquisitely rare, unnatural and frequently messy. To rub his nose in it was—

“How dare you,” Sirius spat, swiftly drawing his wand. “In _my_ common room.”

James looked up, his glasses sliding back down his nose. “Padfoot,” he said quietly, his eyes on the wand.

“What?” Sirius bellowed, wheeling around to face James. “Are you going to stand for this? Here? From _him_?”

James spread his hands, looking uncomfortable. The glasses weren’t sitting quite straight on his face, making one eye look wider than the other. “Padfoot,” he said again, “…Moony’s right. We were out of order, and he—he’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Well said,” Snape drawled, slow-clapping him. “Reserves of diplomacy I would never have suspected.”

As James forcibly restrained Sirius’ wand arm, Remus gaped at Snape. “Are you _determined_ to get hexed?”

Snape curled his lip in an expression worryingly reminiscent of Sirius at his most disdainful. “Let him try.”

Sirius shoved James’ hand aside and snarled “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” - but Snape’s wand had snapped out of his sleeve and to duelling height before the first syllable was finished.

“ _Protego_ ,” Snape said, causing a flash of heat that made both Sirius and James take two steps backwards.

“You—“ Sirius exploded, and Remus found he was now gripping his own wand as well, though he had precious little confidence in how much use it would be.

Unflustered, Snape aimed at a portrait hanging on the wall behind Sirius’ head, depicting a huge ancient tree being danced around by mushroom-hat wearing woodland sprites; a favourite of the first-years.

“ _Sectumsempra_ ,” Snape said, and the room filled with the sound of sawing wood; Remus looked up to see a thick bloodied zig-zag erupt across the trunk of the tree, the woodland sprites scattering in terror.

Sirius’ face contorted with fury, and time seemed to slow down. “ _Petrificus To—_ ”

Remus saw Snape’s wand whip around to counter-curse and, faced with an imminent crescendo of chaos and probable bloodshed, did the only thing he could think of.

“ _Enough_ ,” he yelled, jumping in between them and dropping his wand, holding out both hands, bracing himself for the full brunt of whatever they were throwing at each other. He felt a roil of raw power sweep over him from both sides, surging forwards and then jerking back. The force knocked the wind out of him, sent him stumbling to one side— and Snape darted forwards and caught his forearm before he fell.

“Idiot,” Snape muttered, as he steadied him. Gasping, Remus had just enough time to notice the tight heat of his grip before Snape abruptly let go again.

“You idiot,” Sirius was shouting. Remus raised his pounding head to look at him; the tip of Sirius’ wand was smoking, giving off a smell like roasted hazelnuts.

“He’s right,” James said, and Remus tried, dazed, to set his jaw against the three-sided disapproval until James continued, “enough is enough, Padfoot - we’re going to bed. Moony—” James broke off, his gaze swinging between Remus and Snape, clearly at a loss; then he gave his head a little shake. “Moony, we’ll see you at breakfast.”

James turned to Sirius and gestured for him to precede him out of the room.

Sirius, red-faced and breathing heavily, didn’t budge. “Are you out of your mind? We are _not_ leaving _him_ loose in Gryffindor Tower,” he said, folding his arms.

Snape folded his arms too. “I am not _loose_ ,” he said witheringly. “Rest assured, I have no more desire to be in this wretched overstuffed sports-nursery than—ow,” Snape broke off, and looked accusingly at Remus, who had mustered the strength to kick him in the shin.

Remus glared at him. “For the love of little mangroves,” he said, under his breath, “ _Shut. Up._ ”

James took Sirius by the elbow. “He’s not going to do anything,” he told him, and tugged him gently towards the boys’ dorm. “Come on.”

Sirius pushed him away. “What on earth makes you say that?” he demanded. “He could be spying—or setting traps—or he could hex us in our beds! Hell,” he added darkly, “he’d just have to say the word and Moony would hex us for him.”

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but James was already patting Sirius on the arm. “Just like Lily was going to charm me into stealing your aunt’s necklace because she complimented it that one time,” he said. “Or wanted your History of Magic essay and was using me to get close to your locked desk drawer - I seem to remember that was a rather complicated, borderline-diabolical plan, even for her.”

Remus held his breath, focusing wholly on Sirius, who in turn was staring livid at James.

“Or,” James said, “are you worried about him in a more longterm sense, as with your terrifying recurrent premonition that Lily is going to turn me boring?”

Watching closely, Remus thought he saw the moment Sirius chose how he was going to play this: there was a tightening around his eyes, followed by an easy grin.

“You _are_ boring,” Sirius declared, with a throaty laugh and a hard slap of James’ shoulder. “You’re so fucking boring these days I sometimes get you mixed up with Enid Featherview! You’re practically interchangeable, in fact.”

James grinned back at him. “Except you’d sleep with her to get close to Emilia, but not me,” he supplied, and Sirius laughed again, and slung an arm around James shoulders.

“I dunno - try me,” he drawled, as casually lascivious as if he hadn’t been semi-duelling a long-standing adversary less than two minutes ago. He was letting James walk him back towards the dorm, his voice carrying rich and lewd. “Certain things are the same with my eyes closed.”

“Oh bugger,” James said.

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far,” Sirius said, a deadpan purr that actually sounded natural. “Come on then, bedtime. G’night, boys,” he added, with a negligent wave, not looking back. “Don’t go getting yourselves expelled, or anything!”

The door closed behind them and clicked. Remus’ shoulders sagged with relief.

“Enlighten me,” Snape said, after a moment. “Is Black actually now pretending that nothing is wrong?”

Remus turned to look at him, and was struck by a funny mess of thoughts. He couldn’t believe this dour boy with a pointy face had occupied more of his attention in the last week than anyone else had in the last six months. Snape looked like a stranger now, like a photo torn out of a newspaper, pale and tense in the cosy surroundings, dark robes pulled tightly around himself. His presence was suddenly incongruous; it had somehow been a lot more believable for Snape to be here trading hurled curses with Sirius, than to be here now, alone with Remus, in the quiet firelight.

Two days ago, Remus had been fantasising at length about what he would do to Snape here, given half a chance. Such ideas had come easily when he’d been confident that it would never happen.

Remus barely remembered the question, but tried to consider it. _Was_ Sirius now pretending nothing was wrong? He gave a little shrug. “Sometimes it’s easier in the short run.”

Snape snorted. “The short run doesn’t take you very far,” he said. “Hence the name. And I’m concerned that it may be very short indeed. Isn’t it quite likely that Black will be returning imminently to see me off the premises?” He voice warmed, as if sharing a joke. “Or will Potter be yapping at his heels so much that I shouldn’t worry?”

Remus bristled. “Don’t be like that about James.”

“Why ever not?” Snape asked, with a look of mild curiosity. “I’m certain that he frequently says far worse about me.”

“Yes,” Remus said, not bothering to lie. “But it’s not like you’ve never given him good reason. And he just went out on a limb for you, when he really didn’t have to, so - just give it a rest,” he finished, his voice taking on a sharp edge.

“Fine,” Snape said. “It’s fine by me if they want to behave as if nothing’s happened—”

“No one’s behaving as if nothing’s happened,” Remus interrupted. “I mean - it is very, very obvious that something has happened.”

“Oh, that,” Snape said, gaze flicking to the portrait, where the carved up trunk was still dripping blood. A tree surgeon, accompanied by wood-sprites hauling bandages, was trudging her way down a path that started at the horizon. A handful of other sprites were prostrating themselves at the base of the tree, wailing.

“Not the portrait,” Remus snapped, then paused despite himself. “Although if you could fix it, that would obviously be, er, a good idea.”

Snape made an irritated noise. “Tell them to water the roots with extract of dittany,” he said, as if it was unthinkable that they weren’t doing this already. The bandage-carrying wood-sprites pricked up their ears, then a few of them sprinted off back the way they’d came. “The stronger the better,” Snape called after them.

“Thanks,” Remus said, and then wasn’t sure how to begin again. Telling Snape outright that it was extremely significant that Sirius and James had left them to it - there wasn’t a way to put it into words that didn’t sound even more presumptuous than usual. “Look, I—“

Snape suddenly looked very tired. “If you’re trying to decide how best to suggest that I leave,” he said, “just point me in the right direction.”

Remus tensed, because of course, for all he knew, Snape had witnessed the apology he’d come for and was now looking for a way out. “I, well, I still have the galleon,” Remus said, reaching a hand into his pocket for the fold of paper.

Snape’s eyes tightened. “I’d rather not.”

“Fine,” Remus said, remembering the bitter coldness of the tower. “Alternatively, the main door is this way.”

He started across the floor, then stopped again, the full weight of the evening’s developments crashing down on him. Snape had come with him, without asking questions. James had defended them; Sirius had caved. What the fuck was Remus doing showing him the door?

“Or,” he said, turning, his heart suddenly beating very fast, “you could stay here.”

Something slammed down in Snape’s expression; and oddly, that was the most reassuring thing Remus had seen all day. That meant it _meant_ something.

Remus approached him, moving slowly and watching for a flinch, a flicker of interest, anything.

Snape lifted his chin, watching him back, but said nothing.

“If you don’t mind,” Remus said, stopping and steeling himself to talk about it at last. “Given what I - am.”

“Ah,” Snape said, with a wry twist to his lips, “that.”

Remus made himself look Snape in the eye. "I should have told you.”

Snape frowned as if Remus were suggesting something extraordinarily stupid. “No you shouldn’t,” he said.

“But the right moment didn't come up,” Remus was saying, knowing it was a flimsy excuse but it was all he’d got and—wait. What? “What?”

Snape looked genuinely baffled. “Why on earth should you have told me? That’s complete nonsense. I would have thought it only prudent to delay longer than a single week before giving somebody that sort of blackmail material.” He shook his head, smirking. “Gryffindors, honestly!"

Remus stared at him. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Let me get this straight: you were angrier about me risking your reputation as an expensive tutor, than about me secretly being a werewolf.”

“Obviously,” Snape said.

“Oh.”

“Being a werewolf is interesting,” Snape said. “Inconvenient, but interesting.”

“Inconvenient,” Remus repeated. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

“Convenient didn’t seem to be working out very well anyway,” Snape said. “This will probably be better. And it really is very interesting.” His gaze dropped to Remus’ mouth as he continued, “You’ll have to tell me about the bite, some time.”

Remus felt like he might be in a dream. “Um,” he said, blinking, “well, if you really want to know, I suppose. It was when I was a child, a good ten years ago now, and the wolf in question had, um, had an altercation with my father, and—“

Snape gave him an exasperated look. "Some _other_ time," he said, and kissed him.


End file.
